Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)
by TutorGirlml
Summary: a Canon Divergent Season 2 AU with Werewolves Emma Swan just wants to keep her son safe, get to know her parents, and be a good deputy sheriff to her people. But when danger and secrets threaten, she may just have to trust the loner she's trying to resist in order for them all to survive...
1. prologue: leaves on the wind

_Hello Everyone! I'm presenting the first installment of my second CSSNS offering: my werewolf MC. The idea for this fic has been in my head a long time, but I really needed this event to finally make me put pen to paper and give it a try. Though I love reading werewolves in stories, I haven't really tried to write them myself before – so I hope I have done it justice. Also, don't think I've forgotten that this is a CS event, just because Killian doesn't physically appear in this prologue. You get a hint that he's nearby, and I promise you'll see him soon._

 _** Other things to note: Graham (and a few other characters from earlier in the show's run) play larger parts in this divergence from early season two than they did in canon. If it seems like there's a lot of set up in this first bit, that's why. I'm trying to explain how some of them are still around and how it fits together differently from canon. Basically – in most respects – we're at very early season two, the curse has just lifted and everyone knows who they are again, except Graham is still alive (how gets answered as we go along) and Emma and MM don't go through the portal to the Enchanted Forest. Rumple never turns the wraith loose on Regina because Belle hasn't been found; therefore the portal isn't open for Emma to be pulled into._

 _I don't hate Regina._ _ **However,**_ _it did bother me that she never even had to apologize or show real remorse for what she did to Graham – nor did it makes sense to me that no one ever seemed to figure it out, even once the curse broke and they knew magic existed. Since Graham is still around in this and has his memories, what happened comes out, and Regina does stay more of that conflicted, but still vindictive and dangerous, character we saw in season one and throughout season two._

 _I think that's it for now… I hope you will enjoy and come back next week. I aim to post every Friday for the duration of the story, which as of now I am estimating will be around 10 to 12 chapters._

"Run to Me (in the Dead of Night)"

By: snowbellewells (TutorGirlml on )

 _~~ prologue: leaves on the wind_

The crisp fall air of late September blew Emma Swan's long, golden curls back over her shoulders and off her neck, tangling them together and causing a shiver to skitter through her as the chilly breeze of early evening glanced along her bared skin. Even as she clattered down the front steps of the diner, eager to get out of the rather close and over-warm space and the heavy, grease-scented air, she still felt it: the sense that had been following her around lately, more than any simple gossip or slander would account for, resting heavy on her shoulder, of being watched. Glancing around the outdoor seating area of Granny's and down the quiet main street, deserted but for a few leaves blown here and there and Marco tinkering with the sign that hung over the door of his repair shop and pausing on his ladder to offer her a friendly wave and doff of his cap.

Emma tried to shrug off the troubling impression; eerie though it was, she wasn't sure that it wasn't just some manifestation of her own jumbled thoughts and fears, a tingling in her bones that had been discomforting her ever since the curse broke, almost a week ago now. Willing her hard-earned nerve and bravado to reassert themselves, Emma rolled her eyes at herself and how she had just mentally referred to the curse that had changed everything she'd come to know on its head as casually as if it were laundry day or a trip to the movies – just a regular little life-altering occurrence – and gathered the still warm carryout bags Ruby had pressed into her arms just a moment before closer to her chest as she picked up her brisk pace down the sidewalk. Something in her psyche wanted to kick her for running as she left Storybrooke's most popular eatery behind her, but Emma honestly wasn't in the mood.

The tiny hairs along the back of her neck prickled as she crossed the opening of the alley between Gold's pawn shop and the library. She threw a glance down the dim space, but told herself to relax and blew out a frustrated breath before squaring her shoulders and moving on. Whatever sort of creepy premonition vibe she was picking up on lately, it simply had to be in her head. For one thing, this was the smallest, sleepiest, stuck-in-the-eighties town ever; beyond fights at the local watering hold between whom she now knew were three of her mom's dwarves and guys she had learned were Jack Sprat, Tom Thumb and a definitely not-so-little Jack Horner, and the occasional clichéd kitten up a tree, nothing ever happened here – or at least, nothing of the normal criminal variety. Besides, she already knew who the supposed villains were – and she was well-acquainted with the fact that skulking around subtly wasn't any of their styles.

No, the sense she felt was probably that same one she had experienced some time back, when Mayor Mills had run her smear campaign trying to overturn Emma's appointment as deputy. Then, it had been judgmental eyes on her back and whispers that ceased when she walked into a room; now it was awkwardly hushed awe and averted eyes or slight bows when she tried to approach a group casually, and still the constant scrutiny – ill meant or not – and whispers, probably about how unprincess-like she, as their long lost princess, had turned out to be. In any case, the way it made Emma's skin crawl uncomfortably really didn't change that much from one case to the other.

Curling she and Graham's dinner more protectively into her elbow, Emma sighed resignedly as she walked on, kicking at a stick on the pavement at her feet. Thinking back to those unpleasant weeks when she had almost given in, packed up, and moved on, the upheaval of the last several days didn't seem quite so intense. Back then, it had seemed as though she was clinging to her tenuous bond with Henry by such a fragile, thin thread. Graham offering her the deputy sheriff position – and thus a legitimate reason to remain in town – had been a genuine boon, and when it had seemed as though that might slip through her fingers too – as good things always seemed to do in her life – Emma had almost hit the road once more. She'd been so close to taking off back to Boston, or anywhere really, it didn't matter… she was always going to be alone.

No matter where she went, people never truly changed that much. Emma had learned that long ago, though Henry's boundless optimism and the quaint little town's charm had almost let her forget. It never got easier to ignore the labels that had followed her for most of her life – brought back to glaring focus by the newspaper expose Henry's adoptive mother had ordered in her bid to see Emma ousted from her new town role. 'Runaway', 'Thief', 'Orphan', 'Hussy', 'Teen Mom', 'Jail Bird'…those nasty words dogged her steps for the few days after the paper's publication in the suspicious narrowing of eyes and disapproving pursing of lips as much as in any audible speech. For all too many moments, it had looked as though the little berg she had begun to hope could be a real home was going to turn its back on her. No matter how far or fast she ran, the barbed tips of both truth and rumor about her never failed to pierce Emma's hard-won armor. She might be good at pretending the wounds didn't sting, but she knew now more than ever that she would do well not to forget just how quickly the tide of public opinion could turn.

Even now, with the curse broken, and her tentatively coming to believe that she had not been an unwanted infant abandoned carelessly on the side of some deserted road, the lost little girl inside her still flinched at cruel jabs both real and imagined; there would never be enough time passed to make that completely go away. The childhood and adolescence she had weathered was an inner wound that would always draw blood – even as getting to know Henry, his forgiveness for her giving him up, his boundless blind faith in her, and meeting her parents after all the years lost, and learning how desperately they had indeed loved and wanted her, how they'd had no other choice but to give her what seemed her best chance and believe they would be reunited someday; even all those truths being brought home to her couldn't undo everything else she had known before.

Upon reaching the sheriff's station at last, Emma raised her chin from where she had buried it in her collar against the chilly wind and her hair being whipped across her face and into her eyes. She turned the knob and pushed into the station's dingy and antiquated entryway, also finally shedding the odd sensation of eyes following her as she entered the squat cinderblock building. She could feel her mood lift slightly almost at once. In truth, this was the first job she had genuinely enjoyed doing in years – not only because she was good at it and got paid well, but for the fulfillment and sense of purpose it brought. Clearly, Graham had needed the second pair of hands; they'd be putting the filing back in order until next December, and the man couldn't make a decent pot of coffee without somehow getting grounds in it to save himself. Still, he respected her and they worked well together. Emma was determined not to let down her guard and grow too comfortable again, but this sleepy little hamlet could almost feel something like a place to belong – not a description she would ascribe to any of the other places she had landed before.

A wry smile curled her lips just before she called out to let Graham know she was back with their food. She certainly wouldn't take back Henry's appearance on her doorstep and his bringing her here – whatever happened next. And watching the first real friend – outside of her 10-year-old and her own mother – she had made in years muttering to himself in his office, rifling through the haphazard piles of paperwork stacked all over his desk and running an occasional frustrated hand to swipe his errant curls off his forehead, she grinned even more warmly. They had exchanged one kiss – some months back now – but had decided to simply remain friends rather than risk the comfortable working relationship they shared and Henry's hurt, as he cared so much for both of them, if it failed. They had somehow managed to simply go on as if it were a one-time gesture of affection and remain the partners and friends they were – for which she was constantly grateful. Graham was warm, open, supportive, and just lighthearted enough to crack truly awful jokes simply to see her roll her eyes, snort, and smile, but he was also capable and as driven as she was, determined to do their jobs well and protect those in their charge.

Stepping into the doorway of the lamp lit office, Emma had raised her hand to knock on the frame, but Graham looked up alertly before she could even complete the motion; hazel-deep eyes finding hers unerringly as if he had sensed or scented her presence before it could be humanly possible. She used to marvel at the uncanny ability her boss possessed; be it hearing, smell, or some other awareness, it was impossible to sneak up on him or catch him by surprise. Of course, now that the curse was broken, Emma knew, though she was still trying to wrap her head around it, that it was his werewolf nature allowing him that ability – his lupine senses were heightened and made him effectively alert and aware of everything. Smirking slightly she had to admit to herself that wasn't at all a bad skill set for a sheriff to possess.

Shuffling forward almost bashfully, Emma held out the to-go bag in explanation, even as Graham waved her in without question, a welcoming smile on his scruffy face and stood to pull the visitor's chair facing his desk over to the end of it where they could eat together more comfortably. Graham took the still steaming brown bag that Ruby had handed her with an understanding and apologetic smile not five minutes before and began to spread their meal out on his desk. They'd shared their evening meal right there nearly every night they both worked since he had hired Emma, and it was a settling bit of routine normalcy that soothed her jangled nerves as she sunk into the seat before her.

Graham looked up at her with a grateful crooked smile and the bright eyes that Emma would challenge _anyone_ not to be charmed by (there was a reason she had kissed him that one time after all). "Thank you, Deputy," he quipped, a playful emphasis on her title. "It was definitely time for a break." He gestured at the stacks of files and paperwork all over his desk at those words.

Once they had both settled into their seats, Graham didn't hesitate to take a huge bite out of the Philly Steak hoagie he'd ordered, munching happily and even closing his eyes in bliss with a low hum of satisfaction deep in his chest. For a moment, Emma could only watch, trying to remember if her friend – for all that he looked so trim and wiry – had always had such a voracious appetite and she merely didn't notice before, or if it was a trait of his recently reacquired wolf within. She was still sometimes too stunned to believe that both he and his adopted sister Ruby, her two closest friends in Storybrooke beyond her parents (that was taking some adjustment too) could both shift into large wolves by the light of the moon. They had been born with the ability in the Enchanted Forest, and that side had merely been buried along with their true identities while under the curse. It was why Graham's birth parents had abandoned him in the woods – or so he had told her, as he could only assume when he didn't even remember them – to be found by a preteen Ruby on one of her nightly runs and brought back to live with she and Granny, folded into their little family as simply as if he had already belonged there. Emma had yet to see either of them transform, but she also knew in her bones that neither of them would lie to her. She had simply attempted to reconcile this one more bit of her new normal in her mind and move on without treating her friends any differently; even if, in moments like that, she did gawp at them in wonder. "That good, huh?" she finally managed with a chuckle, amused enough by his good natured enthusiasm and almost child-like joy to put aside her own cross mood and paranoia of being followed.

Then, she bit into her own first taste of Granny Lucas' unparalleled onion rings and let out her own ecstatic moan at the hot, crisp, greasy goodness on her tongue. Graham laughed out loud in response, the whooping, uncalculated ring of it doing much to completely repair Emma's clouded outlook. "I don't know," the sheriff countered her previous jest saucily, "you tell me."

Emma nodded enthusiastically, her own eyes alight as well, and her mouth full of her first buttery toasted bite of Granny's grilled cheese. When she could speak again, she conceded gladly, "Yep, you're right. Granny's is the best – and Ruby slipped bacon on here for me again. It's like Heaven between two slices of bread!"

Graham snickered at her creative praise, and the two of them settled into a comfortable silence, busily munching on the food spread out before them and humming in pleased enthusiasm. Once they were finished, Emma began gathering up wrappers and napkins as Graham sat back contentedly in his chair, wiping crumbs from his front with his hand and grinning at his deputy in full-stomached satisfaction. "Well, that hit the spot," he stated cheerily, eyes sparkling when she nodded in agreement with his words. He paused a moment, as if uncertain whether he should voice what he was about to say or not, then added, "I'm glad. You look a lot happier than you did when you first came back in here."

Though she truly attempted not to – had long since decided in the months she and Graham had worked together side-by-side that the good hearted sheriff was trustworthy – Emma felt herself stiffen and begin to close off. She didn't need any more concern over her emotional state and how she was dealing; her mother was doing enough of that to serve for a dozen people. The barrier she threw up was almost involuntary, no matter how well-intentioned she knew her boss was. Old habits were hard to break, and even more so when she felt half the time as if the town's very borders were closing in on her, that she would never find "normal" again, and as if her every move was being scrutinized and probably coming up well short of what must have been expected in a long lost royal.

To his credit, the soft-spoken lawman didn't push and delve into further questions. He backed up slightly, hands raised in appeal, before lifting a file from the stack before him and turning to put it in the corner cabinet, offering her a bit more space as if he had read her mind _. 'No, more likely he sensed the fear or frustration on me,'_ her mind supplied unhelpfully, remembering his heightened shifter senses once more. Though he had his foster sister, and Granny, and Henry blatantly adored him, trailing after the sheriff or begging him to ride along on patrols, Graham seemed like a somewhat reluctant loner himself. Emma sensed he understood self-protective walls and keeping others at arm's length all too well, even if she didn't know everything he had been through. He might be willing to listen, but he clearly wouldn't force her to talk.

She could ask him how he seemed to know, seemed to be on the outside looking in, but it really wasn't fair when she was unwilling to share in return. Ruby had explained to her once – on an ill-fated girl's night that only she and Ruby had made it to the end of – Mary Margaret and Ashley ducking out embarrassingly early – that shifters like them could only be contained for so long, and that though he had loved she and her gran and been happy with them, he had mostly returned to the forest when he came of age, living off the land as a skilled huntsman with a wolf he considered his brother at his side. It was only after a month when he hadn't stopped in for even a supper or a quick visit, that they learned he had been commissioned for a job by the Evil Queen – and when he had failed to return, she had feared him dead. It wasn't until befriending Snow White and hearing she and Charming's whole story put together that Ruby had learned the fate of her adopted sibling was much worse: he had been made into one of Regina's heartless black knights, his very mind and will subject to her whims and control.

Henry had told Emma all this as well, long before her waitress friend confided in her with newly-restored memories post-Curse, but Emma hadn't truly believed him at the time, merely nodded along to humor her highly imaginative son as he'd flipped through his storybook not long after she and Graham had shared their single, ill-fated kiss. Graham's collapse just afterwards, her panicked 911 call and what the confused Dr. Whale had vaguely labeled some sort of isolated cardiac event, had given cooler heads time to prevail where taking the romantic feelings behind that kiss much further had been concerned. At the time, Emma hadn't questioned his awed "I remember" epiphany, chalking it up to disorientation from his impending health episode. Now she knew that somehow his memories had been returned to him before the curse breaking did the same for everyone else in town. Henry had been thrilled, and she knew that Graham had listened to her son seriously after that, truly joined his "Operation Cobra", because he _knew_ Henry was right, and wanted to help bring everyone back to themselves as well. He just hadn't attempted to share it with her, knowing she would think him crazy and that it would push her even further from the truth. Instead, he had bided his time, and helped where he could, waiting and hoping and believing until the Savior could no longer deny who she truly was.

It made Emma chuckle lowly, and shake her head in amused disbelief; their whole world had changed, and yet here stood her friend, patiently waiting as he always had. He turned to look over his shoulder at her sound from where he stood at the open filing cabinet, head tilted to the side as he studied her curiously, until Emma finally admitted, "Yeah, I wasn't in the best mood. It felt like everyone in the diner was wondering how I could possibly be their Princess. My parents keep fussing over me and trying to make up for 28 years in a week, and we still don't know where Regina's hiding or what she might be plotting next. It's just…it's a lot….that's all."

She blew out a breath, still not sure what compelled her to open up exactly. To her intense relief, Graham didn't try to offer empty platitudes about it all being fine and not to worry. He merely nodded in understand, adding, "I'd imagine so. Our world back in the Enchanted Forest – your own family even – wasn't real to you at all, and now it's all been dumped in your lap."

Emma bit her lip to hide its almost quivering a little at the emotion he summed up so succinctly. She wasn't used to feeling so shaky and out of her depth – and she certainly didn't like it. That didn't even begin to factor in the weird sensation of being watched that she had experienced repeatedly, nor of being followed, though she kept feeling it crawling up the back of her neck the last couple of days. That had to be just a reaction to the other upheavals around her –if she could only convince herself of that fact.

Suddenly, Emma had to get out. The pressures of wondering what the Evil Queen might throw at them next, how to keep her son safe – while at long last getting to actually learn to be his mother, trying to reconnect with her own parents, and trying not to disappoint everyone else looking on, was overwhelming her once more. The walls of the station seemed to be drawing in, along with the suffocating weight of all that responsibility mentally added up as well. It really was more than any one person – a sane one anyway – should be expected to handle at one time.

Luckily, it had taken her long enough to fetch their dinner, that a quick glance at the clock back out into the main room over the coffeemaker and microwave showed that it was nearly quitting time anyway. She needed to get back to her room at the loft – if only for five minutes completely to herself to put her head back on straight – before she hyperventilated.

Before she could voice some excuse about the supper not sitting right or needing to help Henry with his homework, Graham looked up at her again, warm gaze concerned and voice soft in understanding, "Emma, you don't look like you're feeling well…"

She started to protest, even as she had been about to claim just that, but she didn't want to seem like she was slacking, nor for her distress to be so obvious. She used to have a much better poker face. Graham waved off whatever comeback she was about to voice anyway. "Seriously, this place is so quiet they shouldn't pay both of us to be here anyway. I'm closing up myself as we speak. I'll put the phone on rollover to our cells at 9:00, and then I'm heading out too. You're only gaining about twenty minutes."

Shaking her head at his once more almost unbelievable kindness, Emma didn't even try to protest further. Instead, she slung her jacket back over her shoulders and nodded her acquiescence as she stood. "If you're sure," she finally caved, "but make me return the favor sometime, okay?"

"Done," Graham assured her, his expression genuine and further comforting her that he didn't resent the early exit or her needing some time to regroup.

Another minute, and she was out the door, hesitating but a moment on the curb outside to button up her red jacket and pull her knit beanie down over her ears against the chill in the late September breeze. She stepped out briskly, crossing the street and picking up speed as the night had already lengthened into dark and the air had gone chill. It was only as she passed by the storefront with Dr. Hopper's offices above on the second floor that a scuffling noise caught her ears enough that she turned sharply, peering once more down a narrow alley between buildings. She could have sworn the shadows shifted as something – or someone – drew further back out of sight. Emma tried to focus on the area where she had seen movement, practically holding her breath as she stared into the hovering blackness. Whatever had alerted her was clearly long gone though. She wasn't running around in the night alone chasing what was probably a stray cat, nor was she going to let her jangly nerves imagine even more monsters than the ones she had already learned were real.

Turning back to face the street, Emma made herself move on toward the home she shared with Mary Margaret – and now David and Henry too. She couldn't help the foreboding that skittered up her spine; no matter how many times she told herself she wasn't being followed, that nothing was there, she was no longer sure that reassurance was true.

As if to seal her unease, just as she closed her fist over the door handle to enter their building's stairwell up to the loft, the hairs on the back of her neck stood on end in the night stillness. And it was then that a stark, shivering note rose on the chill air – coming from the nearby forest at the edge of town, but carrying in a haunting, wild cry, clear as a bell. It was the howl of a wolf, letting them all know it was there.


	2. chapter one: out of the shadows

_~ chapter one: out of the shadows_

The next morning found Emma calmer again, though still a bit shaken by the sense of something lurking and possibly tracing her steps, seemingly proven by the cry of that wolf the night before. She had opted not to share her misgivings with her newly reunited mother and father however. Even as she knew they would be desperate to listen and help her, reminding her for the 90th time that doing just so was all they had ever wanted, they were also a perfect fairytale couple almost sickeningly in love at having found each other again, and so nonsensically optimistic that Emma wasn't sure she could handle them both blindly reassuring her that everything would be fine and that she was worrying over nothing. Real life wasn't some children's story or Disney movie - at least, hers had never been. And so she simply avoided getting platitudes and chipper comfort, no matter how well-meant; she didn't want to snap at them for trying to do their best.

Instead, she had quietly woken Henry with the promise of a special breakfast for the two of them at Granny's. The opportunity for sweet French toast and their favorite hot chocolate with cinnamon, plus his mom all to himself, which had been rare since the chaos of the curse breaking, had her bright-eyed boy grinning and dressed in minutes, ready to go. The excitement of them sharing a secret had his big, brilliant eyes twinkling with glee; he almost bounced where he stood, his enthusiasm more than could be contained in his small ten-year-old frame. Needless to say, it took only minutes to get him out the door and down the street, skipping along at her side and talking as fast as he could draw breath to sustain the torrent.

Henry only truly paused once they were seated with plates of sugared, fried toast dripping syrup and butter and steaming hot before them. Emma chuckled to see him start shoveling forkfuls into his mouth as fast as he could, grinning at her around the battered bread confection as she finally snuck a few words in edgewise to ask what he'd been studying at school and how his friend Paige was doing now that she knew she was also Grace and had a father named Jefferson to split her time with as well as the adopted family she had always known.

Only as Henry began to detail the science experiment with tiny maple shoots his class was doing, did Emma glance up at the ring of the bell over the door at Granny's entrance. The tall form filling most of the doorframe and blocking a fair bit of the early morning light through the glass for several seconds, made her breath stall in her throat. She was frozen, unable to blink, for fear the vision before her would disappear. The dark headed stranger; scruffy, wiry, and clad in full dark denim and black leather, stared back at her with a stunned sort of recognition, even as Emma knew she had never laid eyes on him before. There was no way she would forget a man who looked like that. No matter how uninterested in dating, romance, or potential heartbreak she was, Emma certainly wasn't blind or oblivious, and no red blooded female could see this guy and not have their heart rate kick up a notch or two.

It wasn't until the man shook his rather shaggy mop of hair slightly, almost as though trying to clear his head, that the overpowering connection of their gazes broke and Emma felt herself draw in another breath, looking down in embarrassment at the flare of heat blooming over her cheeks. She knew that meant her fair skin bore a bright and telltale blush that she didn't want detected. When she again chanced another look up through her lashes, the man had dazedly moved to the counter to place an order and was speaking unheard to a smiling Ruby. There was something a bit off about Ruby's stance, even as she smiled gamely at the new customer, that Emma couldn't quite figure, almost as if the wide grin were showing her teeth more than conveying a welcome. However, she didn't have long to puzzle on it before realizing that her intense focus had snagged her curious son's attention. She could feel Henry grinning at her as much as actually see the spark of playful curiosity in his eyes as they roved from the stranger near the entrance and back to her with interest, back and forth like he were observing a tennis match.

Sighing and shaking her head, Emma couldn't help a rueful laugh at her own expense, chest practically heaving and mouth hanging open in awe like a woman on the cover of one of those cheap bodice-ripper romance novels. Henry leaned forward, his eager amusement obvious as he whispered across the table to her. "Who is that, Mom?" he questioned, completely oblivious or simply ignoring her consternation. "Do you know him?"

Emma shook her head at her easily excitable little schemer, hoping he wouldn't draw attention to them with his not-so-whispered queries.

Henry did stay relatively quiet, thankfully, but nudged her hand on the table with his own. "You should go talk to him," he urged.

Before she could object or try to steer her son back toward eating his breakfast and getting to school on time, Emma was startled once again when the newcomer crossed to their table with three to-go cups somehow balanced between his hands. Coming to stand before them, the man's blue eyes - even more arresting up close - twinkled at first Emma and then Henry as his hip jutted in a decidedly rakish stance, and he held the proffered gifts out for them. "Hot chocolate with cinnamon," he explained with a playful wink, and then an encouraged smile as Henry's face clearly transmitted his delight. "The lass at the counter assures me it's your regular order." Pausing to wet his lips uncertainly, almost as though battling nerves, he then added an almost courtly and old-fashioned bow. "By way of introducing myself - Killian Jones, at your service."

Emma had tilted her head suspiciously, studying this Killian's words and actions when he chose to approach her with her son, but she trusted her gut as well as her instinctive lie detector and read nothing false or dangerous in his intentions. Sensing it to be a truly considerate and well-meaning gesture, she gave Henry a small nod and reassuring smile when he looked to her for confirmation it was alright to accept the treat.

Emma took her own beverage from his hand as well, and only when her skin brushed his with a shiver did she notice the stiff, immobility of his left appendage. She had to admit that she was both curious and struck with a pang of regret for whatever must have happened to him, but it didn't affect her nearly as much as the lurch of powerful attraction in her stomach immediately upon their fleeting contact.

"Thank you, Mr. Jones," her son spoke up brightly, scooting further into the booth they occupied in order to make room, even before he asked, "Do you want to sit with us?" Emma shook her head again, wondering if that hadn't been exactly what Jones hoped to achieve, though she couldn't truly be upset at her son's politeness, nor his friendly, accepting character.

Killian chuckled good naturedly, happy but also struck by a pang through his chest at just how long it had been since he had been welcomed by anyone with such ease and enthusiasm. He hoped his humored response had covered the accompanying flinch of pain, but he pressed forward just in case. "Please, just Killian will do nicely. Mr. Jones was my father; you'll make me feel old. As for joining you both, I would like nothing more, lad, but I do believe I heard your mother speaking of your lessons commencing as I approached?"

It was Emma's turn to laugh lightly then, her face practically glowing and her eyes crinkling as she joined their exchange. "He has you there, Henry! Nice try, kid, but we'd better get you to school before you're late."

Henry groaned, clearly much more interested in whatever new developments might happen in his absence than in attending class, but he dutifully finished his last bite of French toast, gathered his backpack and drink, and moved to stand. "Walk with us at least?" he asked hopefully, eyes trained with accuracy on the man he had clearly decided to make his newest friend.

Turning to search the stunning blonde deputy's face for approval, Killian felt the blood drain from his own visage, and the strength from his limbs, so caught up in the visceral attraction that pulsed between them once again. It was as though he couldn't look away, the connection, the pull between them was so strong. The force of it left him completely adrift, merely scant comfort found in the fact that - if he weren't mistaken - she seemed to be affected in much the same way. He had only meant to ascertain if she would be opposed to his accompanying she and her boy on their way, but he might as well have suddenly turned to stone, a mute statue, for all that he could voice any of his thoughts.

Seeming uncertain for only a second, she then gave him an almost shy smile. As if reading his eyes and his as-yet-unspoken question, she agreed with her son in a carefully casual lightness. "Sure, come along if you'd like - the more the merrier."

It didn't take a genius to see that this was going out on a limb for her; Deputy Emma Swan's offer wasn't half as nonchalant as she wanted it to appear. He could sense the way her pulse quickened, the light blush that tinged her cheeks, and the idle tension as she crossed and uncrossed her arms over her torso while awaiting his answer. An outcast himself - lost and alone for most of his life - Killian could recognize another with similar defense mechanisms. Even without the clues his heightened senses could detect from her bodily response to him, the kinship he felt warmed him beyond any simple animal magnetism he had ever encountered.

Scratching behind one ear nervously, he offered both mother and son a crooked smile before nodding gratefully. A chance to actually join in with those around him, be a part of something, was tempting despite its never having worked out well for him before. "Aye, I'd like that."

Their little trio was just moving to the diner's exit when a slight man with a cane swept in, a wave of fear and expectant energy covering the place with his arrival. Mr. Gold, the pawnbroker, though all were also aware that he was Rumplestiltskin - the Dark One - one of the most powerful magic users ever and not to be crossed, eyed everyone in the establishment; his beady, sharp eyes coming to rest on the three facing him, stalling where they had been on their way out.

Emma tried imperceptibly to move so that her body at least partially shielded and hid Henry from view, but Gold merely sneered silently as if to remind her that such efforts would be futile if he decided to strike, before coming to rest on the man at her side. The smaller man's eyes glinted cold recognition, narrowing as they centered on Killian Jones with a malice that made shivers of foreboding tingle across the back of Emma's neck. No words were spoken, but it was a stand-off all the same, and one she found herself suddenly desperate to break up. "Can I help you, Mr. Gold?" she asked while attempting to stare him down and stepping forward to draw his focus to the deputy badge clipped onto her belt.

The sinister hiss of his smooth, oily words was disconcerting, but Emma didn't flinch, wouldn't allow herself to show weakness. "Funny you should ask that, Dearie," Gold intoned almost gleefully, looking for all the world as though he really was savoring whatever he was about to unveil. "You do owe me after all." Emma cringed slightly at the remembrance of her agreement to return him a favor in exchange for Cinder-freaking-rella to keep her baby. "But let's wait for your colleague to join us… Oh yes! There he is. Good morning, Sheriff Humbert."

As if on cue, Graham stormed through the door at that very moment; a man on a mission, though he drew up short at Gold's positively jubilant greeting, immediately on the alert. It was clear to Emma, who had come to know him fairly well by that point, that her friend had entered into the diner with a purpose - something on his mind - but he certainly wasn't going to broach it with the Dark One standing nearby like a sinister eavesdropper.

"Good morning, Gold," Graham said with a nod in a friendly enough tone, but his eyes were wary as he watched the powerful imp who owned half the town, both literally as a landlord and figuratively as broker of the many whose deals he held over their heads.

Gold smiled lazily, his gaze encompassing their audience in the other booths and at the counter of the diner, Henry, Emma, Graham, before narrowing in once more with open hostility on Killian Jones. The wide, mocking smile vanished for a second as a truly monstrous glimmer passed over his face, then rippled and vanished so quickly that Emma had to wonder if she had only imagined it.

Bringing his focus back to the sheriff and deputy, Gold made an ostentatious gesture with his hand, twirling it up like the announcer on a game show or a magician flourishing before unveiling his favorite trick. "Well, now that we're all present…" he drawled with pleasure, "what I want from you is quite simple."

Emma narrowed her eyes more shrewdly, still attempting to put Henry as out of sight and mind from the troubling deal maker as she could, feeling her breath stopper up within her throat at the slight movement beside her which caused her to realize that Killian Jones, whom she had only just officially met and who owed her nothing at all, had shuffled enough closer to her side to aid the effort, effectively shielding Henry behind both their bodies. He'd done it so subtly that Emma herself wouldn't have registered the stealthy shift if it hadn't been for the way the fine hairs on her arm stood at attention in awareness of his proximity - electricity erupting in the air between them so strongly that she couldn't ignore the sensation.

Emma shot a quick sideways glance in his direction, only to find his light, sea blue gaze already directed her way, waiting to receive her response. She had meant to be surreptitious, not intending to give away what he had managed so smoothly, but as their eyes met, she couldn't help the sharp breath she sucked in at the impact, stunned and muddle-brained by his effect on her. Hoping to convey her gratitude for his help in protecting her son, Emma attempted to funnel that emotion into her expression, and to her relief, a warmth stole across Jones' striking features, laugh lines crinkling briefly at the corners of his eyes and a warm, comprehending smile pulling his lips up briefly as he nodded to her before turning forward to face their common foe once more. Still, somehow in that brief exchange, a bit of the pressure within Emma snapped. Her shoulders fell slightly from where they had been pulled high to ready herself in what Ruby jokingly called her "fighting stance". The easy communication she had just experienced, ready comprehension without even needing words, was incredibly rare. The sense that another person understood and valued the thoughts and opinions they read from her had possibly never been so clear before - certainly not with such ease or strength. Though she didn't have the time to work it out just then, or to weigh why it excited her and bolstered her courage instead of making her want to run, Emma filed the knowledge away, hoping for the time to examine and savor it later. A sense of kinship, of belonging and effortlessly understanding another person, was more welcome than she would have expected.

Pushing the whirl of emotion aside, Emma returned her gaze to the deceptively frail-looking older man in his sharp, tailored suit before them. Now well aware who he was, despite knowing only a fraction of what he had done in the realm where she was born, and all he was capable of doing, or had already done, to those she held dear, Emma knew the small, unassuming facade for what it was. Even when he appeared friendly and jovial as he did now, there was an undercurrent of danger that accompanied his mere presence, and she refused to be taken in or caught off guard.

Speaking up clearly and directly, not allowing her unease to show through, nor hesitating to meet him head-on, Emma stared right back into reptilian eyes that glimmered with intelligence and treachery, biting out, "Well, let's have it then," she prodded, inviting no grandstanding or tricks, just the plain truth. "Clearly you wanted an audience, so here we are. What is it you're after?"

"Ooh," Gold mocked a shiver of intimidation, "very bold, Miss Swan. So brash, so self-assured." A truly fiendish grin of delight stretched across his face, showing the glint of his teeth as he paused deliberately before warning, "I'd be a bit more careful of your tone though, Dearie. Remember, I'm not the one who's indebted here."

Judging by the abrupt hiss of air through clenched teeth that she heard to her left, Killian Jones had recoiled at the threat in that statement nearly as much as she had. Either shocked, angered, or displeased by the news that Emma owed this villain a favor, she wasn't sure which and she couldn't risk a glance at him to see. Instead, she grit out her response to Gold's admonition with a near growl. "Well, that may be true, but I certainly wasn't aware of all the details in the fine print, was I?"

"A deal's a deal," the Dark One simpered almost playfully at her, "doesn't matter if one later decides the price is too steep."

Emma continued to glower back, fists clenched at her sides, uncertain if she could even move from her defensive stance she was so frozen, so torn between rage and embarrassment at the bind she had locked herself into before knowing any better.

It was Graham who broke through the increasingly heated staredown. "Gold, tell us what you want and be done with it. This isn't the Enchanted Forest, nor have we any need of the theatrics." The firm, commanding tone her friend could pull off but rarely employed gathered everyone's notice. Emma caught him making eye contact, even as he spoke, with his adopted sister over their heads to where Ruby stood behind the counter. He must have been able to communicate his instructions well enough to her, as soon Emma heart shuffling and the squeak of footsteps on linoleum flooring at her back and realized that her brunette friend was almost certainly ushering diner patrons out the back entrance as stealthily and swiftly as possible. Emma held her breath, knowing the exits wouldn't escape Gold's notice. However, he seemed untroubled by them, and so the five of them stood in a sort of motionless tableau until the vacated diner was eerily silent and emptied of all innocent bystanders.

Giving one final titter of mirth, a sound that truly set Emma's teeth on edge, Mr. Gold, mentor to the Evil Queen herself, finally stated his business and laid all his cards on the table. "The maid in my employ back in our realm - Belle French - is still missing, despite Regina's curse breaking, memories being restored, and reunions happening left and right. She became rather invaluable to me during her time in the Dark Castle - good help is so hard to find, you know." He said the words flippantly, endeavoring mightily to seem nonchalant; unconcerned one way or another, merely wishing to reclaim a stolen possession, but there was a fervency behind the light words, a tightness in his face as he spoke, that set off Emma's sense of a lie. This maid meant more than he wanted to reveal. "She was unfailingly dedicated to her work and possessed of a ridiculously overdeveloped sense of honor," he continued. "She would have returned to her duties for me if she were free to do so. Therefore, I can only believe she has been taken. Someone is holding her against her will. And I want her found. _Immediately_."

This last was leveled with ringing authority, the implied consequences for failure unspoken but abundantly clear.

"And how do you know she was even brought over to this land with the curse?" Graham questioned smartly; Emma duly impressed by his quick thinking and completely logical argument.

Gold's gaze narrowed further still, his focus so intense on the Sheriff and former Huntsman that it made Emma want to flinch away from its burn though not even trained on her. Eventually however, he nodded succinctly as if he had found what he needed and moved on. When he spoke again, his voice was once more smooth, assured, and certain he would not be denied. "And excellent question, Sheriff Humbert. Perhaps your former keeper trained her loyal dog a bit better than I realized."

He paused, a knowing simper on his pointed face as he watched Graham stiffen, an involuntary shudder rippling visibly through his frame.

Emma bristled on her friend's behalf, not sure what exactly Gold meant by his words, but easily able to see they had upset and shaken Graham's resolve to an uncanny degree. She took a step forward, intending to break into their exchange and a hand coming to rest on Graham's arm in support, but Gold continued before she could speak. "Let us simply say that I know she is in the land somewhere. I would feel it if she weren't. That is all any of you need know."

"So we're just supposed to take your word for it?" Emma bit out harshly, not at all liking his assumption of control, nor the way Graham had still hardly moved since Gold's veiled insinuation. "We should expend all our department's time and resources on your wild goose chase, even though the whole town's in chaos right now?"

Gold sneered at her, undeterred and unwilling to acknowledge any claim as more pressing than his own. "You would find you truly regretted going back on a deal with me," he intoned, voice eerily calm but all the more troubling for it. "Not to mention," and his gaze trained on Graham once more, staring him right in the eyes as if to make sure the Sheriff caught every word. " _ **He**_ owes me even more than you do, Deputy Swan. Our good Sheriff might well decide he didn't have the heart to do otherwise."

Graham snapped his eyes free of the almost hypnotic serpent's stare Gold held him in, turning his head abruptly and clearly battling within himself for a moment, before finally rasping in a voice that sounded as though it had been drug over gravel that of course they wouldn't leave an innocent young woman to suffer, and they would do all they could to locate this Belle French.

Emma found her eyes going back and forth between the insidious businessman and her boss, aghast at Graham's seeming compliance with the demands and trying to decide what was going on between the words spoken, clearly something Gold could use as leverage on her friend that she wasn't privy to. Not that she minded trying to help someone genuinely in need - that wasn't the point - but she bristled at Gold thinking he owned the sheriff's department and could control them as he did so much else. Still, she bit her tongue, waiting to see what would happen and trying to trust that Graham would explain further when he was able.

Seeming to sense that he had gained their acquiescence, at least begrudgingly, and the upper hand, Gold's focus slid once more over to where Killian Jones stood at Emma's side. The newcomer's eyes never wavered from their aggressor, on his guard and vigilant, as if expecting an outright, physical attack, and Gold seemed equally intent, sizing up his quarry patiently. "And you," he nearly spat, a flicker of fire in his eyes that truly made him look for a fleeting second like the demon she had heard so many claim him to be. "Seeing you here, now, when my Belle is gone, makes me think you had something to do with her disappearance," he continued, drawing nearer as he spoke.

Killian tensed, a muscle in his jaw working at the sinister accusation leveled against him. Emma held herself back only because she was still determinedly trying to keep herself somewhat neutral in her official capacity, and physically between their foe and Henry. Even so, she had to grit her teeth, burning to step forward and defend the man next to her. He had just arrived in town, how could he have had anything to do with the disappearance of Rumplestiltskin's maid? She knew what it was to be doubted at every turn, mistrusted merely because she was new to a place, alone, and didn't belong anywhere with anyone else; it wasn't right or fair, but she had burned with the feeling more than enough to sense her defenses rising on Jones' behalf.

Next to her, Killian's eyes narrowed at his accuser, no longer a twinkling light and mirthful blue, but dark as a stormy sea, his right hand fisting and opening repeatedly as he held himself rigid, clearly wanting to step forward and strike out in retribution for the uncalled for slander.

The pawn shop owner studied them both, not missing a single detail: how close they stood to one another, how hard Emma was working to maintain a semblance of control, and how intensely Killian was struggling to keep himself in check. Somehow, even taking that all in, an insidious, evil grin stretched over his thin lips, as if pleased with the turmoil he had wrought.

When Killian did speak, his voice was a dangerously low rumble from his chest, a warning to back off, as he _would_ defend himself and his own. The mere fleck of light remaining in his cerulean eyes flashed like lightning with his words. "Think what you want, Crocodile," he countered, Emma's brow furrowing in confusion at the strange moniker, and not for the first time wondering just what volatile history lay between this intriguing man beside her and the Dark One. "I may be guilty of many things - plotting to see you pay for all you've done to me amongst them - but make no mistake, I'll not hide in the shadows when I strike vengeance against you. You will know it was me. Kidnapping some former member of your household staff brings me no closer to my aim."

If possible, Gold's countenance grew even more disturbing at Killian's gritted words. Right before their eyes, his face seemed to darken in rage; for a second, Emma would have once again sworn that his skin nearly sparkled as if covered in glittering, truly reptilian scales and eyes turning almost yellow, before the vision dissipated and she blinked, wondering if the effect had been in her mind both times. The roar of his next words did make Emma flinch back though, their timbre almost inhuman. "You filthy cur!" he railed, taking a step closer to Killian, hand raised in a manner that made Emma fear he was about to strike Jones down where he stood.

To his credit, Killian didn't even blink. Gold's whole body seemed to shudder with a wave of power from within, as if the frisson was bursting to escape and barely contained in its slight, unassuming vessel. Pivoting to face Graham, his face close and eyes hard on Storybrooke's lawman, the Dark One's next statement chilled Emma even further. "I want Miss French found, Sheriff. And if you know what's good for you, you'll begin with that mongrel right there."

His finger pointed at Killian could not be mistaken, even as Emma watched, tensed, expecting some blast of dark magic she still knew very little about to spew forth and set him on fire or turn him into a toad - whatever horrible curse the imp could imagine, she supposed. Thankful that no such destruction occurred, her heart still sunk, even as she floundered for another course of action, at the slippery wizard's next words. "He can feign innocence all he likes, but that degenerate cannot even deny that he has gone after her before, merely to injure me. I want him brought in for questioning, Sheriff. Consider it a part of the debt you owe me."

Shaking her head, appalled by the swift turn of events, Emma gathered herself to strike back at the spiteful man, fruitless as she knew it was; to argue with Graham, to remind him they didn't answer to Gold, nor have to do his bidding without real evidence, but it was as if she had suddenly gone silent and invisible, watching it all unfold around her. Fumbling without even looking, she gripped Killian's hand in her own, almost as if she intended to hold onto him so he couldn't be taken away.

And though Killian returned the pressure warmly, the rough calluses of his fingertips and palms somehow making her stomach flip when they brushed against her smooth skin, his eyes were grateful but resigned when she raised hers to meet his solemn stare. "It's alright, Swan," he murmured, so quietly she didn't think anyone else had even heard and making her heart rhythm stutter at the unexpectedly beautiful nickname. "I'll go with Sheriff Humbert."

She opened her mouth to argue, but he shook his dark head minutely. "On this score at least, I've nothing to hide. And, at any rate, with whatever he has over you and your sheriff, my freedom isn't worth anyone's life." He stepped forward, offering his wrists for Graham to cuff.

Graham, for his part, looked ashamed, clearly reluctant to take this man in on no grounds whatsoever beyond a villain's word. "No need for that," he mumbled, barely meeting Jones' eyes, and both avoiding the gloating evident on Gold's vindictive face. With a mere firm hand on Jones' arm, the sheriff led the other man out of the diner to his waiting squad car.

Gold exited as well, watching with the satisfied air of one whose job is done, then he bowed to Emma like some magnanimous ruler and turned to leave, heading back up the street to his shop.

Henry was pulling her arm before the chime on the door at their backs had ceased its ringing. "He can't just do that, can he? Not here in the real world! We've got to help Killian!"

Emma quickly gathered Henry close to her, delving her hand into his soft hair and holding his body tight to her own for fear he might run after the Dark One in childish haste and fiery need to right all wrongs he saw.

She didn't know what she was going to do just yet, but she would get to the bottom of this. Of that she had no doubt.


	3. chapter two: into the light

_chapter two ~ into the light_

Emma was still watching through the large front window of the diner, stunned that even though Mr. Gold was slowly making his way back to his shop - no doubt still watching, but leaving them nonetheless - Graham was still leading an unresisting Killian Jones to his squad car parked at the curb outside, a firm hand on the man's arm and hand guiding his head down as he opened the door to put him in the back seat. She could barely process what was right before her eyes, knowing Graham wasn't any more convinced of her new friend's guilt than she was. If she hadn't still had Henry pulling on her other hand, looking up at her with frightened and disillusioned young eyes, she would have run out to the sidewalk right then to reason with her boss.

She felt more than saw that Ruby had come to stand at her other side, even before the leggy brunette laid a staying hand on her upper arm. Her clear gaze was trained to the same place as Emma's; her solemn dark eyes watching her brother's movements as he closed the door behind his passenger and moved slowly around to the driver's side of the cruiser.

"There's more to this than you know, Emma," she stated calmly, holding Emma's doubtful stare when she turned to glare at Ruby in challenge.

"Really, Rubes?" Emma retorted, her exasperation clear, "because it looks like the guy I work with - the friend and boss I've come to respect - just arrested someone without cause and is about to wrongfully hold them in jail."

Her friend didn't answer right away, her shoulders slumped slightly as she let out a sigh. Her eyes fell to Henry for a moment, holding out a hand to the boy with bright red painted nails. He took her hand without hesitation, familiar with and genuinely fond of the usually bubbly, exuberant waitress. "Henry," she spoke sweetly, gesturing over her shoulder to her own grandmother who had just come out from behind the counter, wiping her hands on a kitchen towel and giving Emma's son as warm a smile as Emma had ever seen the tough old bird produce. "Granny's taking off until the lunch rush - nobody's gonna come back in here until then at least. And you need to get to school. Will you let Granny take you?"

Henry was more than astute enough to know when he was being shielded and kept in the dark, but to his credit, he didn't make a fuss or argue. It made Emma's heart swell to think that maybe - just maybe - no longer than she had known and had a relationship with him, her son trusted her to do her best to right this wrong. He wrapped his skinny arms around her waist, burrowing his face in her stomach for just a moment while she ruffled her hands through his soft, brown air, then he stepped forward and gave Ruby a quick, impulsive hug too, and went to Granny willingly.

"Come, come, my lad, let's get you to school," Granny fussed as she ushered him out the door with just a brief, searching look back at her granddaughter and the deputy. Emma heard her saying something about, "...and the sooner you get to your classes, the sooner you can be right back here at the counter with that Paige of yours, and Nicholas and Ava maybe, for after school ice cream…" then the door swung shut behind them and they were gone.

Quiet settled over the deserted diner, which was never empty at this point of the morning, despite what Ruby had told Henry, but Emma ignored the rather eerie feeling in the familiar building to turn to her friend, hand on hip and waiting expectantly. "Well, let's hear it then," she prompted when Ruby merely fidgeted and bit her berry red lips before turning and grabbing a rag as if she intended to wipe down tables rather than provide the promised answers.

"Oh no you don't," Emma said, placing herself right in Ruby's path. "You said I didn't understand, that I didn't know everything...so I'm listening. Please, explain to me why my good, honorable partner would jail an innocent man, because you're right, I don't get it."

Startling her more than a little, Ruby whirled on her, bringing herself nose to nose with Emma and staring her down. Though most of the time Ruby disguised the strength and power she truly possessed with giggly flirtation and playful short skirts and heels, Emma sensed just then the raw fire beneath the pretty surface. When her friend spoke, her voice was low and controlled, but it didn't keep the sound of it from being closest in tone to a warning snarl. "And just how do you know for certain this Jones is innocent, Emma?! Hmm? I'm pretty sure you just met him this morning, same as I did - same as anyone else in this town. He just suddenly arrives here? In our hidden, supernatural town, in the midst of a crisis? And that doesn't seem the least bit strange to you? Not to mention that he - "

The brunette broke off before completing that thought, whatever it might have been (and Emma _was_ immensely curious). Figuring it wouldn't do any good, not when Ruby was already so fired up Emma still couldn't help pressing, "He what? What were you going to say?"

Ruby's fit of passion seemed to leave her as quickly as it had come. She slumped, defeated and drained looking into one of the empty booths and motioned Emma to sit opposite her. She flung the rag onto the table between them before propping her elbows on the formica surface and burying her head in her hands for a couple of long, bracing beats. Sighing, she shook her head and then murmured, "Nevermind, that's not important right now."

"Wait, how is that not…?" Emma started, but Ruby shushed her with a look, her mouth thinned to a warning line as she merely waited until Emma trailed off and paused, finally willing to wait again until Ruby had finished saying what she intended.

"Look, it's not my story to tell, okay? Just forget it for the moment. What you _do_ need to hear has to do with our past in the Enchanted Forest, and some things Graham probably didn't know how to tell you - or even want to tell, but clearly you're going to have to gain some idea or you'll think he's a horrible person for considering Gold's orders." She picked at her nails, worrying her bottom lip with her teeth, and then looked up to hold Emma's gaze steadily. "Okay," she blew out a huff of air resignedly, then plunged forward. "So, you know how the kiss you two shared returned Graham's memories even before the curse broke, right?"

Emma nodded impatiently, not sure where this discussion was going and fidgeting more and more in her seat to get back to the station and straighten out whatever was happening.

"Well, turns out his memories of who he was weren't all that kiss brought back. I told you before that Graham had been taken by the Evil Queen, conscripted as one of her Black Knights, but Emma - she literally had his heart, held captive in her vault with countless others. And when someone's heart is in another possession like that, they lose their own free will. The person holding their heart controls them completely. There's no way to fight it; that person's a pawn, a puppet, a slave forced to do the master's bidding. Regina used him in ways he hasn't been able to put into words, that he hasn't had the time or ability to deal with yet, but our pack bond lets me sense at least some of it - impressions of the fear, the pain, the helplessness - he couldn't deny her anything. He was trapped, but a part of him still loathes himself for the things she made him do to others, and the things she did to him against his will." Ruby's eyes burned with righteous fire even as her voice floundered several times in explaining to Emma just what her brother had been through. "Let's just say, I hope you guys find Regina before she shows her face to Granny or me. I don't think either of us wants to be responsible if our inner beast takes control."

Swallowing hard, Emma signified that she understood the naked threat; she really couldn't even blame Ruby. There was a part of her still aching for Mayor Mills' hide herself for the trauma, loneliness, and self-doubt the woman had inflicted on Henry - not to mention that she was also the reason Emma had been alone all her life and never known the parents who _did_ love her and had wanted her very much. Who but a villain would try to convince a ten-year-old they were crazy in order to cover up their own wrongdoing? But, she had to fight to keep that impulse in cheek. Here before her was just one example of why she couldn't go vigilante, however good her reasons. Too many others were right on the brink, and somehow they had to keep the powder keg Storybrooke had become from blowing up in all of their faces.

Yet, she was also still more than a bit confused. What did Graham's nightmare at Regina's hands have to do with Gold and his arresting Killian Jones? Cocking her head at her friend on the other side of the booth, Emma pressed, still trying to see the whole picture. "But if Graham's been under someone else's control all this time, wouldn't that be all the more reason for him to do what he feels is right, not just whatever Gold tells him to do?"

Ruby blew out a frustrated breath, leaning forward again intently. "Think Emma," she murmured under her breath, quietly seething even though no one was around to overhear them. "How do you think Graham is still alive if he got out from under Regina's thumb?" She closed her eyes briefly, as if having to gather the strength to think about, much less say, the next words she uttered. "Don't you understand? That night he collapsed...that wasn't some random health episode or heart anomaly. That was Regina trying to kill him before he said too much. She attempted to crush his heart into dust, and she only failed because of the superhuman strength he gains with his werewolf side."

Emma drew in a sharp gasp, surprised and appalled to learn suddenly how close she'd come to watching him die right in front of her. The night had been traumatic and frightening enough before, but to realize that all the time his heart had been outside his body while someone else tried to squeeze the life from it, was sickening.

Now that Ruby could see her friend was truly comprehending the horror, she pressed on, eager to have the entire dark tale out in the open light and dealt with at last. "Well, once he recovered, Graham came and told Granny and I everything. We had to get his heart back. It wasn't even a question. So…" she licked her lips, leaning forward to whisper even more furtively, truly resembling the stalking predator she could readily become, "we broke into the Mills family crypt. We waited for a night when we knew the moon would be full, all the senses and awareness and stealth we have at our command at the peak, and when we also knew Regina would be kept late at a town council meeting and then a budget committee one after. Once we forced our way in, it wasn't hard to detect the drag marks on the floor where that ridiculously ornate coffin have been shoved over and back again atop that secret entrance. Graham - horrible as it was - vividly remembered where his heart was hidden the minute he set foot in that cursed chamber again."

She shook her head briefly, as if staving off some sort of reaction she had to close her eyes against, a mental image she wished to shed welling up behind her eyes. Emma didn't have siblings, had never gotten the chance to experience such a bond, but she knew how it had pained her on her friend's behalf when people had turned on Mary Margaret for her tryst with David, or when she even suspected someone might have upset Henry. It had her wanting to reach out to the she-wolf in sympathy.

A grateful if trembling smile stretched over Ruby's painted lips, "Thanks," she whispered, sensing Emma's intent before the uncertain gesture was even complete. "I promise, we're almost finished. It was just important you understood how we got here." She squared her shoulders, blew out a breath, and pulled the last bit of the story out at last. "There we were, Graham's glowing, magically preserved heart outside his body, but in his possession again. Still, we didn't know what to do, how to get it back in his chest where it belonged. Would there be side effects? Was it damaged after 28 years of squeezing and prying and separation from his body? We may be magical creatures, but we don't actually weld magic like that. We really only had one choice - much as we didn't want to make it. Only one other person in this town beside Regina herself might have known how to help us…"

"Gold," Emma stated breathlessly in dawning realization, the pieces suddenly starting to click together in horrifying place.

"Yep," Ruby affirmed bluntly, the "p" popping from her lips with scornful distaste. "And you know he never does anyone a favor without exacting a price."

"Well," Emma sat back hard against the vinyl of the booth seat, digesting all she'd heard and readying herself for the fight ahead. When she met her friend's eyes again a few seconds later there was a steely determination in their green depths that, even after their relatively short acquaintance, Ruby knew most people had learned not to question - and that she had come to respect. "Enough of that," Emma continued stalwartly; her stubborn mind clearly made up as she stood from the bench seat and squared her shoulders. "Come on, let's go."

"Wait, what?" Ruby spluttered, scrambling after her and tossing her apron on the table to follow Emma to the entrance. "What are you going to do? I don't think-"

Emma spun at the door, green eyes flashing, "Look, I understand why you guys went to him. You really didn't have any other choice. I made that mistake once myself," but then Emma drew herself up straighter, as if trying to physically stand taller to gather herself for the fight ahead. "I don't want Graham hurt either, but we can't do our jobs and protect this town with Gold and his favors to collect hanging over our heads. Plus, Graham _still_ isn't really free if he's just having to act as a different person's puppet. Is he?"

Ruby didn't answer this at first not sure, not sure how to counter Emma's logic, but concern for her brother whose heart she had literally seen pulsing fragilely outside of his body not that long ago, still overriding most everything else. Plus, she had almost all she could manage to keep up with Emma, who was now striding briskly toward the station, with her ridiculously high wedge heels over the uneven pavement of Storybrooke's aging sidewalks. Finally, she managed to get in breathlessly, "No, I guess he isn't, when you put it that way. But still, do we really wanna give the guy who put his heart back in reason to rip it out again?"

The question made Emma's shoulders slump marginally, but she didn't stop moving forward. Her voice was low and taut with worry over the seriousness of the situation when she did respond. "I get what you're saying, Rubes. I do. But we may not have a choice. This can't go on forever. We _need_ to turn the tables on him."

By the time this hissed whisper exchange was complete, they had reached the station. Emma jerked the outer door roughly in her haste and turmoil, and Ruby simply clattered in behind her - concerned naturally, but also gaining a bit of her friend's projected confidence. Bucking the ruling power in town appealled to her, and it was long overdue. She'd do what she could and hope for the best. Emma was the Savior after all; she had broken the curse that gave them all back their true selves, perhaps she really could set them free once again.

Neither woman was quite prepared, however, for the calm, once might even call it ordinary, sight which greeted them once they got past the lobby and into the main office of the station. Both Graham and Killian stood near the bars of the cell that the sheriff had clearly escorted their new guest into. Killian Jones looking much more relaxed and at home than someone newly arrested and taken to jail had any right to - leaning against the wall of the cell, one arm propped at the elbow up on the metal crossbar and his legs crossed casually, seeming at ease as if he were at home in his favorite chair. Graham on the other hand, looked downright anxious and sheepish, clearly not happy that Gold had been able to face his hand so neatly and all signs pointing to the guilt he felt for taking Killian in without a good reason.

It was evident that the two had been deep in conversation, and neither seemed at all upset with the other, which Emma happily took as a good sign. Once having that gauge of the situation she made her way across the room toward them, Ruby at her heels.

"Hey there, beautiful," Killian offered in greeting, his eyes twinkling playfully despite the less than ideal surroundings in which he found himself.

Emma felt the room go hot and her vision a bit fuzzy at the way his gaze seemed to track her motions; if she didn't know better it would remind her of the way a predator in the wild tracked its prey before pouncing and devouring. Despite the heated flow of her blood, a shudder ran through her, making her response shaky at best, "Hey yourself, Jones. You're awfully chipper for someone recently incarcerated." She flustered despite her easy banter, shocked at how hard she'd had to bite her tongue not to call him "Handsome" in place of his name and how hard she was still fighting not to reach through the bars that separated them and pull him closer by the edge of his open jacket.

She fisted her hands reflexively and then shoved them in her back pockets, trying to simply look expectant to hear what they'd been up to. But Jones' eyes still watched her intently, and his brow arched with a wicked bent at her fidgeting, as if he knew exactly what was going on inside her.

"Well Lass, a lovely lady such as yourself is already visiting me - and will presumably be one of my jailers - so I can't complain overmuch. Your partner here has been filling me in on the rest of the story as well. All considered, I've certainly been in worse straits and lived to tell the tale."

Emma had vaguely felt both Ruby and Graham go a bit tense at Killian's "beautiful" and his blatant flirtation, and though she'd been almost too engrossed in his aura to fully register their strange reactions, she could tell now that both of them were still a bit on their guard, perhaps even suspicious, though each was working to portray an appearance of calm. Her eyes darted from one of her friends to the other sharply, tyring to pick up whatever last cue she was clearly missing.

When she came up empty, Emma simply decided to plow on - frustrated but anxious to move her plan forward, get Jones out of that cell, find the poor missing woman they needed to locate, and not - _definitely not_ \- tackle Jones onto her desk and mess her hands in that dark, shaggy hair of his while she kissed that infuriating smirk he was leveling at her off his face. The picture was so vivid as it flashed in her head, she had to physically shake it loose, and her words sounded almost desperate as they spilled out in a rush and forced her to refocus.

"Good, we've apparently all caught up and in the loop then. Here's the thing. We can't let Mr. Gold, Rumplestiltskin, whoever he wants to call himself, run this town. We need to protect ourselves and the people who've trusted us to keep them safe as well. I say, we find this Belle, reunite she and Gold and tell him our debts are both paid in full," she gestured between she and Graham but didn't stop talking, seeing all three members of her audience open their mouths to interrupt and protest. "I'm serious. We let him know we've done what he asked - which was the right thing to do anyway - and we did it together. So we've both returned the favor he did for us. The end. Simple. He can't hold it over us forever. I'll take her over there myself even, so he doesn't go for your heart again," she added to Graham. "This is my reckless plan after all," she tacked on with attempted levity.

Graham protested immediately, "Emma, I couldn't let you take that risk alone to protect my own skin."

She shook her head, ready to tell him she didn't want him to suffer any more at the hands of twisted, power-tripping lunatics, even if it made things awkward by letting him know she knew all, or upset with his sister for telling her. Before she could get the words out, however, a deep voice interrupted hoarsely; emotion making it rough but all-too-certain of what he was saying.

"It's awfully dangerous, Love. You may think it sounds clear-cut and reasonable. But things are never simple with Rumplestitlskin. He lives for his deals, and he's the king of loopholes. Trust me when I tell you that thinking you've gained the upper hand can prove deadly." He raised the oddly stiff hand on his left as silent proof.

She shrugged, crossing her arms over her chest defensively and though his clearly painful past with the Crocodile as he called Gold hurt to consider, she couldn't let it stop them. They could all pay, but they would regardless if they kept letting Gold call the shots. "Regardless," she countered, "we're going to have to take our chances. You guys go track down any leads you think could help us find this Belle. I'll stay here with Killian. If we bring Gold's missing loved one back to him, try to make our own deal in return, maybe, if the prize sweet enough, he won't be able to resist." She shrugged, out of words now, "It's the best chance we've got."

"Emma, are you sure that's wise?" Graham questioned awkwardly and then trailed off, just as Ruby began to step forward, shaking her head.

"What?" Emma questioned, planting a hand on her hip. "Am I not a good enough deputy to watch over things here now?"

Killian reached out through the bars and pulled on her hand gently, "Easy Lass, don't think that for a second. It's me they don't quite trust."

She turned to look at him slightly, not sure what was happening, but he sighed with a sheepish look from Graham to Ruby. "I already told the Sheriff here how I got to this land with Mayor Mills' sorceress mother, and did some shady things to stay on her good side back in our land. Never mind the fact that…" he paused, licking his lips as he glanced down at his worn boots then back up at her from under dark lashes, "they can't help doubting one of their own who doesn't belong in a pack. It's part of their nature - wolves aren't meant to run alone. But I've never quite fit, and any pack I've tried to join sees me as a loner and wonders what's wrong with me. Then the pattern continues and I'm still alone."

"Wait, seriously?!" Emma sputtered incredulously, eyes bugging, even as she sensed Graham relaxing, clearly glad not to be hiding any longer, and Ruby smirked knowingly at Killian's admission and Emma's reaction. "You too? Are you serious right now?"

Killian's smirk stretched across his face in an irresistible, hungry expression; one that Emma wanted to let devour her no matter the cost. The low murmur of his voice rolled through her like tingling pleasure despite how she tried not to let it show. Still, she knew the heat must have rose as a blush in her cheeks and at least a small smile at his words. "Come now, Swan. Don't pretend my animal magnestism didn't draw you from the first moment our eyes met."

Emma found herself leaning forward, just as Killian leaned in as well, forehead to the metal bars, his warm breath on her cheek. "Don't try to hide it, Love," his teeth flashed. "I can see it, smell it on you. That kind of desire just can't be hidden."


	4. chapter three: rumblings of real trouble

_chapter three ~ rumblings of real trouble_

Despite the blatant innuendo Killian Jones was dropping, even as he remained placidly behind bars, and Emma's flustered and heated reaction (which both of her friends could certainly pick up as well), Graham did grudgingly turn to head out, mumbling to his new inmate that he had better behave himself and not give Deputy Swan any trouble. Emma could practically hear Ruby's eyes roll dramatically in reaction to her brother's overprotective warning, without even looking at her friend's face, before Ruby did turn to follow his lead.

To Jones' credit, he didn't fight the sheriff's edict or respond challengingly at all. Instead, he offered an almost respectful nod of deference to the other man. His softly murmured response was genuine when he answered, "Of course, Sheriff. I wouldn't think of doing otherwise."

The sincere reply seemed to stop Graham's stalking exit short, his wiry frame practically vibrating with tension, but his shoulders lowering as well before he also bowed his head and let out a breath. Looking back over his shoulder, eyes stormy but voice calmer and more genial than it had been. "Thank you," he stated simply. "I appreciate that…truly."

He then spoke to Emma, clearly deciding he owed her a bit more explanation as well. "As I've thought on it more, I may remember a prisoner named Belle in Regina's castle back our land. If she is the same person Gold seeks, I might have an idea where she could be. I'll admit that my memories seem to be coming back in pieces instead of all at once, and fuzzily at that. Maybe because I wasn't always fully myself when they were made? I don't know really….but if we find her there, not only will we have found her and have our gambit to offer him, but Gold certainly can't ask us to hold Mr. Jones on those grounds any longer. If I'm right, he'll be hunting Mayor Mills instead."

Emma nodded her understanding, and Ruby looked galvanized by the lead as well – ready to head off to the rescue and into action. Moments later, the two of them were gone, and Emma found herself alone in the station with the devastatingly handsome, and more and more irresistible, Killian Jones. For a few awkward minutes, she attempted to elude his searching, heated gaze. She could feel it on the back of her head, tingling at the base of her neck, but she was avoiding him, more than a little embarrassed at her obvious attraction being picked up on, and that she knew she couldn't hide it if she got close to him, let his eyes draw her in once more. Pretending to straighten the mess of her desk, check the phone for messages, and see that more coffee was brewing could all only take so long however. When Killian's voice once more reached out to her from across the large, open room, caressing her ear with its low, warm timbre, Emma had little choice but to turn and meet his heated stare head on.

"Come now, Swan," he coaxed, beguiling smile on his lips, "don't ignore me. Interrogate me, _punish_ me for my malfeasance if you must…" at that his eyes glittered with truly salacious temptation and a licking of his chops that did indeed make him look wolfish, "but don't kill me with boredom."

She found herself smirking back, moving closer to his cell in spite of her own resolve, and about to challenge the innuendo he tossed out with a saucy comeback of her own, when suddenly a low rumble vibrated through the building around them; the actual ground beneath her feet rocking unsteadily. Unsettled to say the least, her heart pounding and eyes seeking out some sort of cause, Emma stumbled forward and grasped the bars of Killian's cell before her for balance. Still confused and more than a bit worried, she couldn't help noting that his hand closed over hers on the metal bar comfortingly; lending her assurance, even as the floor seemed to shift and tremble under her, and it began to look as though the brick outer wall of the station was wobbling and rearranging as well.

Her eyes finally flew to meet Jones' intent gaze, hoping he could perhaps explain what was happening.

A dark look crossed his features making him look distinctly foreboding. Emma had the definite sense that he did at least have some suspicion or idea what might be occurring, but before she could gather her voice to ask him, her eyes widened in genuine trepidation as the bricks in the wall nearby did indeed begin to not just shift but fall away. It was as if, as she watched, stunned, the wall crumbled in the shape of a wide archway, opening the station to the street outside.

She felt Killian go rigid next to her, again making her almost certain that he knew exactly who or what was coming for them, and that he was absolutely dreading the confrontation. Already nervous, his reaction made her mouth go totally dry, turning her hand within his grip up to twine her fingers with his in search of a bit more courage with which to steel herself.

Mere seconds later, two swirling funnels of purple smoke appeared in the opening, clearing gradually to reveal Regina Mills in one of her perfect, sharp skirt suit ensembles and an older, similarly dark-haired, dark-eyed woman beside her dressed in an opulent gown that Emma could only assume was more reminiscent of this other realm everyone else seemed to hail from; it certainly didn't look like anything she'd ever seen in modern day New England. Both were cool, composed, and completely unruffled, despite the unbelievable and sudden appearance. They stepped through the now obviously magic-created gap and with a single gesture of the older woman's hand, the continued rolling beneath their feet abruptly ceased.

"Cora," Emma heard Killian growl angrily at her back, low and under his breath, but indicating to her clearly his wariness and a previous acquaintance that was less than pleasant. She recalled his recent brief confession to Graham, that this woman was both a powerful sorceress and Regina's mother, and also the way he himself had reached Storybrooke.

Reacting almost without thought, and while still clutching his hand, Emma stepped in front of Jones subtly, as if to shield him from direct attack. Not that she could do much against magic, but this was partially her jail after all. She wasn't having someone hurt on her watch; not if she could help it. Beyond that, something fiercely defensive rose inside her. This man – she didn't yet know him well – but she sensed a pull, a tie between them that she didn't want severed. Though he seemed ruggedly able to care for himself – if he had been alone as long as it seemed, he clearly could – she didn't _want_ him to stand alone against two dangerous witches. There wasn't even a question; she didn't know exactly why, but what he had shared of his past with Gold made it clear he'd been hurt with magic before, and she wouldn't merely stand by to let it happen again without trying to help.

Pressing her mouth into a thin line and planting her feet, even as Killian hissed at her shoulder, tugging at her arm, urging her to step aside, reasoning that if they were there for him he didn't want her to take his place, Emma focused on staring the two women down resolutely, hoping not to give away any of her doubt or fear.

The older woman, her dark hair up in some elaborate twist, practically simpered in self-satisfaction at them, her voice a sickening coo, a deceptively sweet warning hidden in friendly greeting. "Well, Captain, what have we here? I wondered where my traveling companion had gotten to. You don't look as though you've done all that well for yourself." Her wide, pearly smile seemed polite and magnanimous, but beneath it showed her teeth in an eerily chilling grin.

Emma scrunched her face up in confusion, not understanding the 'Captain' title or her teasingly condescending manner. Killian however, though she could feel his tension through the bars that separated them, appeared outwardly unconcerned and nonchalant to the woman's barbs and her veiled threat. His voice was cool and silky as ever when he responded, "Well, I see that unencumbered by my dissention you've found and teamed up with your daughter, as you desired. So it certainly hasn't held you back any, your Majesty."

Emma found herself thrown even more and further confused by the royal honorific Jones offered the woman before them, but before she could question anyone on the finer points of who she was or what was going on, Cora nodded back to them, a light chuckle leaving her that somehow made the hair on Emma's arms stand on end.

She inclined her head toward Killian in a subtle gesture of agreement before adding, "You are correct. Certainly your defection has hardly stopped me. However," and here she pursed her lips, clearly taking in both the people who stood before her: their stances, their closeness, and quite possibly even their strong but undefined connection, then cutting briefly to her daughter, who looked cruelly pleased and expectant for what would happen next. "Though I do not take slights or betrayals lightly, you are not the one I've come to deal with at present."

Though it was Emma who had been lost up to this point, now Killian seemed equally puzzled by his former cohort's words. "Pardon me, Love," he smirked deviously, just as able to simper back at her as she was to put on false charm, "but I'm afraid I don't quite understand."

"Oh no?" the older woman tutted mockingly. "Well, you see, I came to this little hamlet to make amends with my daughter, which you well remember, Captain. As it turns out, our family reconciliation is nearly complete." She shrugged, looking for all the world as if she had not a care, merely one tiny little chore to accomplish and all of her plans would be achieved.

Killian, however, knew better than most just how deceptive her pleasant smile could truly be. He had first met the woman on a mission from Regina to Wonderland – where he had been sent to kill Cora. Instead, he had nearly lost his own life, felt those clawed fingers squeezing within his chest, and knew that in the case of this mother and daughter, the evil apple had not fallen far at all from the poisonous tree. Having his life spared by the deceptive and powerful Queen of Hearts had left him with something of a presumed debt, and a knowledge from just enough time spent with her as a compatriot, of how truly dangerous the woman was. Not for a second did he believe her answer would be anything pleasant, he feigned nonchalance to toss back a casual, "Oh yes? And what is it that two accomplished sorceresses such as yourselves could still need?"

Unfortunately, Cora Mills seemed to snap instantaneously into deadly seriousness; her coy, teasing manner vanishing from her face. She suddenly stood right before them, almost nose-to-nose with Emma, sparing merely one more glance with a frightening gleam in her dark eyes for Killian. "Just a little gift, mind you…a token really…to show my sweet Regina how sincere I am in my desire to make things right – to know her again and be her mother."

Something about the woman's tone of voice, the fiercely capable but also unhinged look on her face made Killian freeze. He attempted to raise both eyebrows in challenge, as if to ask doubtfully what sort of gift that could possibly be, but he could already tell that she was coiled, ready to strike, and in that instant, he couldn't force out the words to push her any further. He could see as clear as day that she was about to make a bold move, and Regina's smug expression as she watched from the background with sadistic glee only made the inner warning bells of foreboding ring with more intensity.

Emma was without the benefit of previous dealings and experience with the elder Mills, and so had no such compunction in dealing with their sinister opponent. Instead, she narrowed her eyes, practically growling back, "Oh yeah? Well then go for it, Lady," in a defiant dare that made Killian's blood run cold at danger it invited.

Even so, he couldn't have been prepared for the rapid way Cora's hand shot straight forward, somehow penetrating Emma's chest with sudden violence, and causing Swan to cry out in stunned pain despite her former toughness. Delving about within the golden siren's body before him with a terrifying purpose he knew all too well, Killian barely choked back his own desperate protest, not wanting to make the witch savor her task any more than she already did.

"Thank you, my dear," Cora said mockingly to Emma, her hand looking to at last close around the desired organ as Swan began to gape for air. "You see, you're in my daughter's way. Getting between her and her son. She wanted you removed from the picture, without implicating herself." She smiled a jagged, horrifying grin, "And I am only too happy to oblige."

Emma actually snarled, regardless of her precarious position and Cora's literal grasp on her very life. Killian knew then and there that he had never been so impressed, so enthralled with anyone before. "You'll get to Henry over my dead body," Emma vowed through clenched teeth, glaring at Regina with a fire that was intimidating even with the Queen of Heart's arm engulfed in her torso.

Cora merely laughed aloud at Emma's words, readying to pull her arm free with the deputy's heart in her grip. "I'm sorry to tell you this, my dear, but that is precisely what is about to happen." She tried to withdraw, but instead of emerging with the organ in her hand, the vile woman seemed stuck. She jerked harder, actually moving Emma awkwardly along with her arm, but neither her hand nor the heart left Emma's body.

"What is the meaning of this?!" Cora snapped, yanking her arm back toward herself in earnest now, or attempting it at least; her puzzled frustration growing as she pulled to no avail.

Killian was equally stunned, gaping at Emma who had begun to glow so brilliantly he had to squint to look at her fully, even as her face turned toward him to ask the same question herself. Then, to both their surprise, Cora was flung away from them, across the room with a force so massive it blew Regina off her feet as well – both villainesses careening into the far wall where they lay for the moment, unmoving and still.

In the intensity of the last several minutes, Killian had forgotten his own strength; the unnatural power that did at least come along with the trials and alienation of who (and what) he was. He had been watching passively, his worry for Emma almost paralyzing him; forgetting that he was capable of freeing himself and coming to her aid. Once that seeming trance had broken, Killian's lupine protectiveness and dominance forcibly made themselves known; a low whine escaping his throat as he saw Emma fall back against the bars behind her, slumping at the energy which must have fled her body, and her lithe form visibly trembling. The beast within could remain contained and idly watching no longer, no matter how he had endeavored to up to that point to follow their commands and adhere to Emma and her sheriff's wishes.

Gripping the bars at either side of himself firmly in his large, roughened hands, Killian began to push firmly, slowly but surely bending the bars of his cage outward with his beyond human strength to where he could easily step free of confinement. In doing so, Emma lost the support she had been leaning on and practically collapsed against his solid chest.

Killian's arms came up to hold and encircle her of their own accord; his step forward readying him to catch her when she toppled, even as Emma looked up at him over her shoulder, blinking in confusion and dazed half-awareness at the sudden shift in position and their now close proximity. There was still a definite shaking to her limbs that Killian could feel as he gathered her closer to his considerable warmth – another trait of his dual nature, that he might have chuckled at in a lighter moment as Emma seemed to almost unconsciously snuggle nearer to him – unable to resist holding her while he had the chance. Her sweet, cupid's bow lips parted slightly in surprise as she attempted to catch her breath, and he could no more help the awed, enamored smile he gave her than he could help embracing her for as long as possible.

"Alright there, Lass?" he finally murmured, right against her ear, his mouth actually brushing the delicate lobe and causing a shiver to run through her all over again. Practically, he knew he should be making sure that Cora and Regina were truly incapacitated and looking for a way to hold them prisoner, or at least neutralize the danger they presented once they regained consciousness, but neither of the women had stirred in the slightest, and Emma Swan seemed not at all ready to pull away or push him back as he had fully expected. Holding his breath, he determined not to ruin the moment rather than do anything which would cause her to withdraw.

"I – I- I think so," the deputy stammered, wetting her lips and shaking her head rather adorably, somehow looking smaller and less certain than the tough, impenetrable front she had presented until that very moment. "Wh-what was that? How did I do… _whatever_ that was?!" Her eyes bugged and she gestured expansively as if trying to illustrate the blast that had come from her chest and propelled her attackers away from them.

"Well, Emma," Killian hummed gently, his hands – both whole and stunted – rubbing up and down her arms unconsciously, attempting to offer her some sort of soothing comfort, "I don't mean to upset you, but if I had to venture a guess, I'd wager you used some sort of magic."

Swan did shove herself away from him then, eyes darting from her felled enemies to her own hands extended before her, and from his open, earnest expression to the bars bent wide to allow his freedom behind him. "What? No!" she shook her head in denial, blond mane flying wildly in all directions as she did so. "That's not possible. I don't have magic. And I certainly wouldn't know how to fling people across the room with it, even if I did!"

Killian's eyes narrowed at her outburst, his already stirred blood responding to her fire in a primal way he could not quash. It was all he could do to hold back his instincts just then as they urged him to pull her in and kiss the arguing breath right out of her. The wolf lurking beneath the surface suddenly rammed itself against his internal barriers, desperate to break free, to devour the delectable woman before him with lips, tongue and teeth, making her indisputably his own.

Emma of course, though obviously shaken by the events they had just weathered, looked nowhere near backing down; in fact, she appeared to be gathering steam, jabbing a finger toward the warped cell bars and turning her frantic ire on him. "And _what_ is that?! Are you seriously telling me you could have gotten out of there whenever you wanted?! What were you doing? Just toying with us? Why?"

Dropping his head slightly, Killian had to fight the surge of disappointment that flooded his veins. ' _Always mistrusted, never understood,'_ his mind seemed to hauntingly remind him once again as Emma's wild questions veered ever more toward accusation. Attempting to mask the hurt her sudden doubt had caused, Killian gathered his ever-effective cloak of flirtatious bravado around him, practically leering at her with devilish baiting in his tone. "Wouldn't you like to know?" he goaded, not wanting to provoke her in truth, but not sure how to answer the question honestly without spooking her and still keeping the howling beast within at bay, even as it hankered, slavered, to flee, to get away and lick its wounds. How to explain that he had hoped to aid their cause, to gain their trust, regain a bit of his tarnished honor, and maybe, at long last, find a place to belong? All he knew was that her reaction had forced him to see once again how foolish he was for holding out such hope.

Her arms crossed over her chest, panting with both exertion and indignation as she faced him down, toe-to-toe, the forms of the two Mills women clearly forgotten behind her. "Maybe I would," she shot back, "but I'm not about to start begging for hints. I wouldn't give you the satisfaction."

Neither of them were prepared to give an inch; that much was crystal clear. And Killian would lay odds that Emma had no more idea how they had gone from practically tangled in each other's arms to squared off ready to fight in mere seconds, but there they stood, sparks shooting between them, emotions high and ready to boil over at the slightest bit more provocation.

Again, his quivering muscles warned him of years' experience at barely holding back the change always on the very edge of his consciousness, warring to be free – his natural state constantly chafing at being held back, but when he had exerted such strength and let his emotions become so agitated, it was all the more close to the surface. Basically grinding his teeth, both jaw and mobile fist clenched, Killian let his eyes fall closed in a bid to shut Swan and her maddening presence out, to ground himself once more and stave off his shift until he could reach cover and manage it unobserved.

Both of them paused, chests heaving and at an impasse, until the sound of an alarmed shout, footsteps pounding, and then Graham's form appeared in the collapsed opening of the station's outer wall to the street, caused them to break eye contact. The swell of intense emotion that had swept them up dropped them again, and caused deputy and werewolf to fall away from each other. The sheriff agilely leapt over the pile of bricks to reach them, turning quickly as he regained his footing to offer first his sister, and then a wide-eyed, pale, and silent woman Emma could only assume was the elusive Belle French, his hand in turn to help them clamber over the rubble as well – Ruby quite adeptly, a marked spring in her step at all the action and excitement, and the other woman moving with a stiffness that spoke of lengthy inaction and uncertainty.

Even as she reached the inside with the rest of them, she carefully kept herself half hidden behind Ruby and continued to clutch Graham's steady hand with her own shaking fingers. She did peer out at Emma and Killian with a curious gaze, indicating that she was getting a sense of her new surroundings and wouldn't remain cowed for long, but still, Emma's heart went out her. The rather shell-shocked effect pale, thin visage gave left Emma unable to imagine what all she might have been through. "Belle, I assume?" Emma asked gently, not wanting to startle or push the other woman in any way, but wanting to acknowledge her all the same.

"Aye," Graham nodded, his accent think and softer than normal, a reassuring smile down at the petite woman offered as he spoke. He then looked up to Killian. "I apologize for taking you in earlier. You could have made things much more unpleasant than you did. I appreciate it, and I'm sorry for doubting you. Clearly you and Emma have proven quite a team while we were gone, but the three of us can take it from here. We should be able to sway Gold from his vendetta against you now, knowing it was Regina who was hiding Belle. Still, just in case… you might want to make yourself scarce for a day or two…"

Killian opened his mouth to argue, not liking the idea of leaving two fellow wolves – and Emma – to face off against his mortal enemy, not to mention the Evil Queen and her manipulative viper of a mother. Nor did he like the way matters remained between he and Emma – raw emotions left unspoken and the electricity that had been zinging between them unfulfilled and set alight. However, what the other man said made sense. His gaze turned to Emma, and she nodded shortly, letting him know she agreed with Graham and that he was dismissed.

Much too determined for that to be the end, Killian knew he would be back to finish what he and Swan had started, but the situation was too volatile and complicated for him to worsen their best chance of defusing at least one of their threats. They absolutely would not make the desired progress with Gold while dragging Killian along. He capitulated, merely stating that if they were sure – to which Ruby gave him a toothy grin, reminding him that they were kindred and she and Graham could handle it – he would go for the time being, but he wouldn't be far. He could be called back for help if needed. He and Graham shook hands, and Ruby gave him a much friendlier look than he had garnered from her previously…but Emma wouldn't meet his eye.

Now wasn't the time, he scolded himself, moving to the exit and stepping out of the station into the open air, headed for the tree line not far from this edge of town. Emma had seemed just panicked enough to let him go, despite their earlier closeness, and he kicked himself as he broke into a loping run for wishing once more that she would ask him to stay.


	5. chapter four: a fragile moment's peace

_{This one does jump around a bit more than the previous chapters – starting back in the Enchanted Forest before Regina's curse is cast – before coming back to the present to show what was happening with the others while Emma and Killian faced off with Cora and Regina. It was interesting to me to work with some different characters in this one as well; I hope you will find that I did them justice.}_

 _chapter four ~ a fragile moment's peace_

 _Some 28 years ago in the Enchanted Forest_

In the horrible, stark emptiness of her high tower cell, breaking the maddening silence that was most often her only companion, Belle French flinched in surprise at the echoing sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs up to her prison. She did not know how many flights above the ground in the Evil Queen's fortress she was; it hardly seemed to matter as Belle had begun to fear she might never make her way back down again, nor see anymore of the outside world - the one she had longed to travel and adventure in - than could be glimpsed from the high, barred windows of her cell.

The footsteps paused outside her door before she then heard the clank of metal as someone began to slide the bolt before it could swing outward to admit him. She steeled herself, squaring her thin shoulders, made even more delicate by the pittance of unappetizing food Regina allotted her, clenching her small fists and watching warily. There was never any certainty which guard, which of the hideous Black Knights, would enter with her morning and evening meal, or simply to check on her. No knowing whether they would jeer and taunt, simply do their business and leave, or perchance even move to harm her further. In truth, the loss of her freedom and the slow dying of her hope, the lack of mental stimulation or company, were the worst punishments of her captivity, but it made Belle no less on her guard - never sure what might be coming next.

However, her bearing relaxed slightly upon seeing the figure who slipped through the doorway and closed the portal quickly behind him. Though dressed in the garb of Regina's guards, her visitor had already removed the unnerving, seemingly-faceless helmet to reveal a riot of honey-colored curls atop his head and the kind, soulful eyes full of regret meeting her own. This particular guard with his gentle manner and soft, lilting voice was the one Belle hoped for whenever her door was opened. True, one of the Black Knights he might be, but not by choice or from any cruelty or thirst for power. This man - once a huntsman living wild with a wolf his only companion in the open forest - was as much a prisoner as she. He had shared his story with her long ago, as she had shared her own with him. Once, many years past, the man before her had spared the life of their outlaw princess Snow White, and for that merciful action he had paid dearly. Regina had taken his heart and held him here amid these halls and chambers far from his beloved woods and glens. He could not flee her grasp however he might wish it, but in moments such as these, when she was not making her whims or orders directly known, his true nature showed through.

Belle believed that she might have gone truly insane by now in her isolation if not for stolen conversations with this brave, compassionate man - the only time she could gain any news, any companionship and joy, at all.

"How are you, Belle?" he whispered, the words tripping in his warm, thick brogue with gentle care for her well-being as he held out the questionable looking stew and murky water rationed for her evening meal.

"As well as ever, I suppose," she answered mildly, as always, a bit afraid that they might be overheard, that her sole advocate might have been suspected, followed, and that their conversation overheard might see him punished for his secreted bits of kindness to her, the rogue few moments of cheer she could look for, taken from her.

"Nay Lass, worry not," he grinned boyishly, small and fleeting but infinitely endearing. "I took care and was not followed."

Belle ducked her head, shaking it with a chuckle at how well he had read her thoughts and known what worried her. "Very well, I'll take your word for it," she demurred.

Her friend stepped closer - not crowding her, never making her feel threatened or more trapped as his compatriots did - and held out one more offering, hidden until now, wrapped in clean, white cloth. "Here," he urged, waiting until she took it in her own hand. "I brought you something."

Belle's eyes went wide as her fingers closed around the morsel, discovering it to be soft and warm. Unwrapping it revealed a piece of fresh baked bread, butter mouth-wateringly melted into it nooks and crannies. Looking back up at him gratefully, she stammered over her stunned query, "How did you?... Why?"

He shrugged carelessly, blushing slightly at her pleased reaction and genuinely bashful at the emotion a simple bit of his own much more appealing supper had caused. "Twas nothing," he shrugged, waving away any further question or concern over it. "You should have something actually pleasant to eat when I can manage it."

Grasping that he didn't want praise, and in fact sensing that it somehow made him almost uneasy, Belle merely nodded, though a smile peeked out for him all the same. "Thank you," she offered simply, needing him to know that his risk did mean something to her at least.

A bell tolled somewhere below, and Belle read his unease clearly as every line of his body tightened to wary attention. "I must go," he murmured, stepping back quickly. Then he paused, reaching inside of his uniform to pull out an extra gift. "And here, take this as well," he glanced over his shoulder, eyes anxious and guarded, but hopeful too. "Just don't let it be found on you."

A small gasp of excitement escaped her when the sight of deep burgundy binding and ornate gold lettering on an actual book met her eyes. It had been far too long since she had been afforded her most treasured past time, and she took the tome from him with reverence, gathering it close to her chest.

"Until next time," he bid her in farewell. And as swiftly as he had appeared, her rebel knight and sole ally was gone…

 _Storybrooke Hospital basement, present day_

"Graham!" Ruby hissed, her whisper persistent and not nearly quiet enough for her foster brother's liking. "Where are we going? This is the hospital basement. It's just storage, isn't it?"

Graham shook his head resolutely, pausing at the foot of the stairs they had just descended and wishing they could remain in the darkened stairwell rather than step out into the brightly lit hall beyond. His mouth pressed into a thin, hard line, and he held up a hand to stay Ruby's questions, listening intently to determine if they had been detected or followed.

When no such hints came, he turned to his sister and tried to explain as much as he could quickly and keep them moving forward. "I'm not so sure, Rue," he stated under his breath, the teenage shortening of her name only he had ever used warming her heart slightly even in their cold and dreary surroundings. She couldn't understand how she hadn't missed him all these years; her sibling by nature and by species - by heart if not by blood. The only possible reason she could come up with was that she had been missing herself as well, unaware of her own being, much less the people she belonged with and cared for most. "It's a hunch, mind you, but Regina seemed to come down here more often than necessary - or at least I thought so from what I can recall. Something always distracted me, took my mind elsewhere when I would start to look into it... Before…" He swallowed reflexively, glancing down at his hands clenching and unclenching anxiously at his sides, but then pushed forward. "But there's staff down here as well. I've seen them coming and going. And why would all the way down here need key-in entry locks?"

Ruby paused his words when they became faster and more agitated as he continued, by reaching out to take his hand in hers and clasping it tightly, the same way she had when she'd pulled the scrawny, dirt-smudged younger version of him home with her to Granny to be fed and fussed over all those years ago. "Hey, hey, Graham...it's okay," she blurted in an equally intense, hoarse whisper. "I believe you, okay? Let's check it out. I'm right behind you."

He gave her a tight but grateful half-smile and pushed through the heavy swinging door that led into what looked like a gloomy, dim version of the corresponding space above. If Graham hadn't known better, it could almost seem as though they had stumbled into the Evil Queen's dungeon back in their home realm. The empty hopelessness of the corridor that stretched out before them evoked that strong a reaction, making Graham wish he hadn't brought Ruby along at all - or that he could still send her back and she would actually go. A shudder ran through him involuntarily as he made himself put one foot in front of the other, despite the repressed memories surfacing. There was no other way now but forward.

Moving onward, it was clear that while this basement level might be sterile, blank, and eerily quiet, it wasn't empty. There were doors on both sides all the way down the hall they'd entered, along with first initial, last name labeled placards on nearly every door. They were heavy, windowless iron, with only a strange slot in them at roughly eye level, but something held Graham back from peering through each one. He knew all too well it was dread at what he might see.

"These can't be patient rooms all the way down here, right?" Ruby asked, her voice trembling with concern. It might have sounded shaky to someone who didn't know her well, but Graham could already sense the anger beneath her immediate worry. "Is there even anyone on call? It's like they've been hidden away and - and - just forgotten," she continued aghast, her mouth quivering with fervent emotion at the very idea.

"That's exactly what happened," he answered grimly, hating that he'd known it was true as soon as he had seen the doors with their vague, nondescript nameplates. Anger at himself grew at the guilt of knowing he'd had a sense something wasn't right but never fully explored it. In doing so, he had allowed these people to be locked away for far too long. "They're people _she_ needed rid of," he spat, not even wanting say Regina's name just then, "or that she needed to have under her control once they became _useful_ to her. These people are probably those who were prisoners back in her castle in our land. Rumplestiltskin's maid was certainly one of them - so she… Belle was her name… must be behind one of these doors. It's the Queen's real world, no magic version of a dungeon; a hidden asylum with no treatment and no escape."

Ruby's wide dark eyes pooled with unshed tears at such needless cruelty and pain, even as her full lips pressed together tightly with determined resolve. Graham knew she was just as determined as he that Belle would be leaving here as soon as they found her, as would everyone else in this cursed hall. And people thought his kind were the monsters! Wolves - neither natural nor Were - would never torment other living things, even their prey, for sheer joy in the suffering or simply because they could.

Shaking his head of such sickening contemplation - it never led anywhere he was ready to dwell - he pressed on, nodding to Ruby that they were indeed freeing these poor souls, but that he had a plan, so that she wouldn't simply turn and tear the place apart, possibly hurting herself and terrifying those they aimed to save in the process. His sister was fiery, impulsive - and he loved her for it- but right now there was too much at stake, her safety included. It was but another minute before they reached the end of the corridor where it opened out slightly into a nook which passed as some macabre version of a nurse's station or reception desk.

The space was deserted; luckily for them, though it again spoke to the lack of basic care for human dignity. Had the curse broken and the people trapped within these walls simply been left behind when their captors abandoned their posts? If so, it spoke to their Mayor's twisted ability to select followers with even fewer scruples than herself to carry out her bidding.

Once again, with grim determination Graham plowed forward, unable to stop; this reckoning had been more than long enough in coming. Pulling out the middle drawer of the large desk shoved into a corner of the scant open space, he rifled around quickly, until moments later emerging victorious with two sets of keys clenched in his fist. Handing one to Ruby, he motioned her forward and to the right with a brusque, "You take this side, and I'll get the other. Unlock every door and tell them they're free, to go up the stairs and out to find their families and loved ones. Unless they aren't able or well, just have them get as far away from here as possible, at least for now…. They've already lost too much time." He looked down once more, unable to meet her knowing, sympathetic gaze, until Ruby reached forward and twined her fingers with his, pressing their clasped hands to her chest.

He looked up slowly, knowing she wouldn't move on until he met her eyes. Ruby's voice was firm, measured; her knowing face studying his shamed one. "Listen to me, Graham," she ordered seriously. "This _is not_ your fault."

He nodded half heartedly, not at all convinced, but she wasn't finished.

Shaking her head, his sister pressed on, a solemn vow in her words that would not be doubted or turned away. "I'm serious, okay? You might not have been in a physical cell, but you were every bit as trapped. I don't need to know everything to see how badly you were wounded too. But, you survived… and now you're strong enough to free them. We _will_ make this right."

She turned quickly once he had given her a nod of more certainty, her long, red-streaked hair whipping in an arc behind her as she did, and moved hurriedly to the first door on her side, quickly inserting the key and pulling the barrier open. The face of a grateful elderly gentleman creased into an overwhelmed smile as he stepped from captivity at last. Ruby quickly explained, gave him directions, and ushered him along as she moved to the next.

Graham blinked back the overwhelmed film of emotional tears behind his eyelids and shook his head free of stunned observation where he stood. Moving along the passageway as swiftly and quietly as possible, he saw both unknown faces and painfully familiar ones as each metal panel was swung free and yet one more sufferer stepped forth, at last escaping the waking nightmare that had swallowed and stolen their lives. He felt a weight he had not even been fully aware of carrying lift from his shoulders with each new release; it was one small strike back against all that they had suffered, and fragments of his own pain were briefly alleviated too as they made some sort of dent in the many wrongs done.

However, be all that as it might, there was a sinking feeling resting in his gut as Graham reached the final door and had still seen no sign of his former friend, the petite beauty who had granted him some solace and peace in that fortress of cruelty they'd both weathered long ago. Had he been wrong? Would Regina have hidden her somewhere else even more remote and secure? Worse still, had she somehow not been brought over to this land at all? His mind flinched away from that possibility; unwilling and unable to contemplate the gentle soul he had snuck warm bread and stories of adventure to having long since met her end wasting away to nothing or going completely mad.

His hand shook as he slid the strange skeleton key into the final lock, turned it with bated breath, and fought the impulse to close his eyes, to shield his own psyche from disappointment (or showing such to whatever poor soul he did release) if it was not her. Pushing aside the door, he stepped inside the tiny, bare room, feeling Ruby at his back anxiously, having already finished her similar task. His eyes rose to the cot fastened to the far wall, and then every muscle within him seemed to freeze. Matted, dull, and disheveled brown hair fell to the side of a pale, sunken face as the silent figure curled up on the bed lifted their curious stars to face the intruder head on.

But what nearly stopped his heart, was the rapid indrawn breath which met with the spark returned to the listless blue eyes that had first blinked into awareness. It was her, and she knew him. The tiniest of fragile smiles quavered on her delicate lips as she spoke in a small voice raspy with disuse. "Huntsman?" she asked in a tone of awed disbelief, wonderment and fear in equal measure seeming to warn that she had long since ceased to trust in her own eyes. "Is it really you?"

Graham merely nodded, the pooling tears finally too much and stealing down his cheeks in silent paths. "Yes, Belle, it's me. I've come to take you home."

 _Woods outside Storybrooke, present day_

Killian had run until the shift took over; booted feet pounding on pavement, then loamy soil, then the needle-littered forest floor. It was as old and natural as breathing when the feel of the roughened ground beneath his feet became more direct and intense as he body stretched and lengthened, falling to all fours, feet and hands widening to furred paws as he galloped on with barely a hitch in his stride. Certainly there was still discomfort, but it was a familiar and fleeting one; hardly phasing him after the many times he had felt it before and the current sharp pain in his chest that was unrelated though must worse.

The wind now rushed through coarse, cobalt fur rather than rustling through the hair of his head alone or whipping against flushed cheeks. No longer did branches slap against human skin and break the surface in searing pain, but instead slipped along a sinuous, lean body much lower to the ground and with infinitely more grace than any human form could grant.

Though he hadn't lived in Storybrooke long, Killian had not hesitated to locate the nearest forest and find that it proved, as always, the best place for time to calm himself and regain equilibrium. As it had always been, there was solace beneath the overhanging shade of the trees and the gentle breeze rustling through the leaves and branches, seeming to whisper comfort in his pricked ears. The darkly furred apertures perched atop his head took in birdsong, the skittering of smaller creatures, and his own panting breaths around his pink tongue, lolling from the run he had just taken. Ears swiveling and straining, Killian took a moment to be certain nothing was out of the ordinary, that no sounds which did not belong met his keen lupine hearing, before he flopped down onto his haunches and eventually stretched out on his stomach against the rain-softened dirt of the forest floor, head propped on his front paws.

It was hard not to be hurt, despite knowing they meant it in his best interest that Emma and the others of his own kind seemed not to want or need him in their mission to thwart Gold's plans. He knew the old imp better than most after centuries of studying, plotting, and working to effect his downfall, and though he had not succeeded yet, could he not still prove a worthwhile resource? The entire reason for his being here at all was to see his Crocodile finally pay for Milah's untimely demise along with his own maiming.

A low, guttural whine escaped his throat as he craned his neck forward to lick at the pads of the somewhat twisted and immobile left front paw. The appendage was not rendered useless; certainly his running gait was aided in balance by its presence more than if it had been taken clean off. However, the paw did pain him if he went any sort of distance, or on rough terrain or at an accelerated speed. Not to mention that each twinge, every prick of pain, made him think of his lost love, and every time it ached anew, the anger and thirst for vengeance had swelled once more.

Until he had laid eyes on Emma Swan.

Watching her since his arrival in town - with Cora, he hated to admit, his wolf form letting out a canine snort of displeasure and shaking his ruffed head and neck as if to rid himself of the memory - he had been entranced. Both man and beast yearned to be near her, even if it were merely to trot at her hip like a protective, four legged shadow. Stepping into the little local diner that morning, he had nearly been stunned, blinded, by her beauty. The sunlight through the large front windows glancing off the fall of her golden hair and sending beaming light over her face, her laughing son, and the whole interior of the otherwise rather shabby and ordinary establishment. Up until then, Killian had been contenting himself with chance glimpses, watching her from afar and simply following unseen to see that such a lovely creature was safe and well. However, she had so transfixed him in her simple, happy outing with her boy that he'd had to get closer, to meet her at last.

Some facet of her being spoke to him, in a way he couldn't understand and had never experienced before. It calmed the anger, the pain, and the loneliness that had alternated in haunting him for most of his life. The tempting idea that he might not have to continue on alone for however long his werewolf makeup allowed beyond natural human years was one of the brightest spots to calm the storm in his soul and break through the darkness that he had ever yet encountered. Killian couldn't say that he completely understood, but he was not about to fight it or turn away either.

With those calming thoughts easing the turmoil his mind had been in - and the rush of adrenaline also coursing through his system between an arrest, an accusation, an attack, plus Emma's nearness and their argument - ebbing away, he found the wolf's grip on him lessening from the near takeover it had held on him when he'd fled for the cover and safety of the woods. As a born wolf, he could shift from his human and animal forms at will, though it was always closer to the surface on a full moon, and even if the whirlwind he had weathered in the past couple hours had made his four legged form seem more appealing, he wasn't trapped in it until morning as many people who knew only myths and legends might believe. Ambling back to the edge of the wooded tree line, Killian looked down the soft rise toward the town square he had vacated not so long ago, his tail switching from side to side at his hocks, even though he saw nothing yet. She was down there... _Emma_...and if a canine mouth could smile, he was, at the mere thought of seeing her again soon. His still rational mind shied away from what his instincts whispered... _his mate_...But he couldn't fight the instinct to go back to her, whether she wanted him there or not. Pulled like a magnet by his will, Killian had to return to his golden-haired deputy and offer his help once again. He couldn't stand the thought of her going up against the Dark One without every bit of strength on her side she could possess - and he couldn't stay away either, not even if he truly tried.

Mind made up, a short yelp of discomfort, followed by a groan and second rearranging of bone and sinew as he became man once more was not far behind. Long past the crushing press of embarrassment at his nakedness upon regaining human form, Killian merely set out with as much stealth as possible on the course he had already mapped out from the woods to his ship at the dock, which would take him by as few who might see him as possible. Usually, he stilled possessed the presence of mind to rid himself of clothing before the transformation into wolf began; however, the height of his emotion at the shift he had just completed - feeling shunned, rejected, and unneeded by those he had just found, who like himself and whom he had hoped to stand with, not to mention a beguiling woman he wanted to pull close and hold tightly to shield from a similar fate to what his Milah had suffered long ago - had made such forethought slip his mind until his clothes had already lain shredded among the roots and fallen leaves. Fortunately, the day now moved toward the dinner hour as he slipped closer to the quaint harbor and docks and his ship's berth where new clothing could be found, and fewer people were about to see him in his state of undress.

A thankful breath escaped Killian's lungs as he managed to sneak aboard the Jolly Roger and below her decks without any signs of human detection. Quickly and efficiently, he located new undergarments, jeans, dark patterned shirt, and spare jacket, and pulled them on with purposeful haste, now that his mind was made up and his course decided. His intention now to find Swan and her compatriots and once more offer his aid, making clear the benefit of experience he could lend to their mission, lent speed to his actions. He spared only a moment to ruefully run his good hand over the worn soft dark leather of the spare jacket he'd donned, making note to himself that he would need to be more careful with this one to avoid an unnecessary shopping trip - his wardrobe was not an unending supply.

He had already put one booted foot on the ladder back up to the deck, when he heard the thump of someone landing almost right over his head, followed by the rush of unknown, _trespassing_ , footsteps hurrying across the wooden planks. Killian's hand clenched at his side, realizing his cutlass had been left above, not having much everyday use abroad in a modern-day, non-magical town, tucked in near his ship's wheel should need of it arrive. Nevertheless, he could handle whoever might come aboard his ship; he did after all have intimate knowledge of the vessel upon which he made his home, and the element of surprise on his side as well.

Mounting to the deck with swiftly agile and silent steps, Killian paused before lifting the hatch from his cabin and emerging topside, to gather himself for battle.

The sight which greeted his warily sharp eyes upon emerging once more in the fading evening shadows and setting sun made him ache to do anything _but_ attack however. There, poised in mid-step, clearly startled and struck motionless by his abrupt re-emergence from below was none other than Emma Swan. Her green eyes were wide open and looking slightly guilty at being caught on his ship without any sort of welcome or permission. She seemed to know enough about either sailors or pirates to be aware that such trespass was not usually taken lightly.

Killian's tense posture immediately eased upon seeing that his ship was under no threat, and he stood straight once more, tucking his thumb into a belt loop with a much more relaxed and insouciant pose instead as she huffed and regained her normal stance as well, crossing her arms over her chest defensively for good measure, as if knowing she was caught, but unwilling to admit it.

"Well, well, Swan," he drawled, letting his tongue emerge to trace lightly across his lower lip and raising his eyebrow in devilish mischief. "To what do I owe the pleasure? You seemed quite glad to be rid of me earlier today."

"Please," Emma scoffed grumpily, rolling her eyes at him in a way that, though he had only known her a number of hours, Killian was coming to recognize as endearing habit. Sounding more disgruntled than she actually was, the fiery blonde before him pressed on before he could tease her further. "Look, you and I both know I jumped down your throat earlier, for no good reason other than that I was freaking out. So, I'm sorry - alright?"

Killian dropped the mocking bravado almost immediately upon sensing that she was indeed sincere beneath the agitation and discomfort she was outwardly exhibiting. "Aye," he agreed softly, dipping his head to catch her lowered eyes and holding them with his own, "of course, Lass. It's already forgotten."

"Thank you," she replied, her mumble soft and almost lost on the brisk air over the choppy waves. She stuffed her hands into the back pockets of her deliciously tight denim breeches, drawing Killian's hungry eyes to her long, supple legs, despite his most gentlemanly efforts.

He could tell she still had something else on her mind however, both by the way she shuffled awkwardly before him, even taking a hesitant step closer rather than beating a hasty retreat. "Was that all, Swan?" he finally queried, aiming to keep his voice gentle, soothing, in hopes of coaxing her further concerns from her rather than spooking his flighty Swan. It already seemed somehow as if he had summoned her here merely by wishing it, perhaps it would also prove that she had come to the same conclusion about facing Gold together as he had done.

Emma shook her head vigorously, wetting her own lips before rolling her shoulders and finally speaking up again. "You said before that you know Gold better than most, that you've studied him a long time, right?"

This time it was Killian who gave the brusque nod, before gesturing that she continue, not wanting to interrupt.

"Well, I was thinking - and Graham and Ruby agreed - that maybe you should come with us after all...if you're still willing. It couldn't hurt to have someone with us who really knows Gold's motivations, his strengths and weaknesses, his mannerisms. You might get a sense at least if he means to double cross us." Emma's speech dwindled and she bit her lip uncertainly; daring a glance back up to his face again hopefully.

Killian couldn't resist a small, playful smile as he closed the distance between them to no more than a single step. Impishly reaching out a finger to lightly brush her nose, he had to ask. "And you came to this realization all by yourself, did you Swan?" he prodded.

To this, she shrugged sheepishly, cracking an awkward half-smile herself before finally admitting, "No, not quite. It was Henry. He found your story in his book…" at Killian's puzzled look she waved her hands between them, shaking her head wearily. "Never mind, I'll explain that later. Anyway, he swore we needed to let you help. We couldn't succeed without you. And that...that you were meant to be a hero." She smiled with more warmth at that, finally closing the gap between them completely and reaching out to catch his stunted hand, the immobile one that most people tried to avoid or wouldn't even look at, with her own. "That we needed to give you the chance for your redemption."

Killian blinked, taken aback and profoundly affected to the touch to his neglected, maimed limb. He had to swallow hard, and his voice was still hoarse when he responded. "That sounds as though it was quite passionate, Swan."

She shrugged along with her half smile and certainly still looked more than a little embarrassed. "Yeah well, maybe it was," she allowed, "but he was right too." She tugged his hand lightly to emphasize her words. "I shouldn't have pushed you away, Killian. Will you come with us?"

Killian's smile warmed her fully from the inside out, even as she could see her openness and her invitation had done for him. Raising their joined hands to brush an errantly blown strand of her hair back over her shoulder, his eyes practically crackled at her with enthusiasm and joy. "Truth be told, Swan, I was just coming to demand you allow me to accompany you. So, needless to say, your wish is my command."

He waggled his brows at her for effect, and Emma pursed her lips consideringly, making Killian want to hungrily claim and kiss them until they both lost their breath, before she tossed back her saucy reply. "Good," she smirked, eyes full of a mischief all their own, "because I'm not done with you yet."


	6. ch five: alliances shift and walls fall

_chapter five ~ alliances shift and walls fall_

To the surprise of none in their gathered band – except perhaps Belle, who remembered him as difficult certainly, but had not seen the 28 years of pettiness and sinister deal making, bribery, and veiled threats he had used as Mr. gold in this world – their foe was not happy about relinquishing his hold on sheriff and deputy, nor did he seem particularly grateful to them, even upon once more seeing the young woman for whom he had evinced such concern. Though he kept himself restrained to some degree, probably mostly for Belle's benefit, as they all trooped into his shop accompanied by the falsely cheerful jangle of the bell on his door, there was unmistakable malice glittering under the surface of those somehow reptilian eyes, a danger unspoken but ever-present all the same, despite his measured calm.

"So, you feel thins should cancel both of your debts, do you?" Gold mused, gaze dancing adeptly between Emma and Graham in challenge. "And despite the fact that you've freed the prime suspect in her disappearance?"

The Dark One's beady eyes flicked menacingly over to Killian; true, simmering rage showing visibly in a way that almost twinkled across skin, making Emma swallow an audible gasp and take a step back.

"Now see here, Crocodile," Killian seethed angrily, taking a step forward, despite the vow he had made to himself on their march over to the pawn shop not to engage the imp nor to let his emotions get him into trouble. There were only so many false accusations and attempts at entrapment a man should be expected stomach however, and he had reached his limit.

Emma's fingers firmly gripping his wrist, holding on as though she feared he would rush forward and fling himself into Rumplestiltskin's grasp, pulled him up short at a single step. Killian's blue eyes flicked to meet her green ones, completely captured by her concern and care as she begged him wordlessly not to put himself in danger.

It was Graham though who audibly spoke up next, interrupting the immediate exchange before it could escalate. "That can hardly still be considered the case, Gold… not once you learn where we found her." He stepped in front of both Killian and Emma, as if hoping to defuse some of the tension merely by blocking the enemies from each other's view. Gently, he guided Belle along with him before urging her to tell the man her side of the story encouragingly. Emma found herself hoping that the grateful look Belle gave her friend before turning to speak to her former employer didn't make the situation even worse. Any onlooker would have a hard time missing the affection in Belle's gaze – near adoration, even – though Emma wasn't at all sure either Graham or Belle were aware of it themselves.

Straightening her thin shoulders and standing to her full, if still petite, height, Belle spoke up bravely, steeping right to the counter in genuine appeal to the Dark One's humanity, as if she really did glimpse something more than the barely disguised monster everyone else experienced. "Rumple, please," she urged, beguiling eyes gazing up into his in a way that most people didn't dare, meeting his stare head on with one of her own. "This man," she gestured behind her vaguely, not breaking eye contact with Gold, but indicating Killian all the same, "whatever history you might have with him, he isn't the one who held me prisoner. I was locked up by the Evil Queen. Before we ever left the Enchanted Forest, I'd been kept in her tower longer than I care to recall."

Rumplestiltskin's gaze had undergone a stunning transformation once he truly focused on the tiny brunette before him. The sharp edges to his features softened, and something protective and almost gentle – hard as that was to believe – stole across his visage. He reached out an almost trembling hand to brush a flyaway hair from her cheek, virtually seeming to forget the presence of the stunned observers behind them, not that anyone would have been stupid enough to mock him for an unguarded moment of tenderness. The Dark One himself seemed almost overcome for a moment; as if he couldn't believe his own eyes.

"Instead of holding things that aren't their fault over our sheriff and his deputy's head, we should be thanking them for setting me free at last," Belle pressed. "Moreover, back in our land, if it hadn't been for the sheriff here, I'm not sure I could have kept from going mad with nothing to do and no one to talk to – just silence and loneliness."

"Not even your books, eh?" the pawnbroker teased, a fondness to the words that none of the other would have imagined him capable until that moment.

"Only a few snuck to me by a kind Samaritan," she gestured toward Graham again, and then turned back to her erstwhile former guardian. "Don't you see now, Rumple? It's really we who owe them a debt of gratitude, wouldn't you agree?"

The Dark One in local businessman's apparel did not appear pleased or grateful, more begrudging, but he did cave to her wishes. Clearly whatever connection and history he and Belle French shared, it was enough to sway him, making him concede for her happiness – at least for the moment as she was just regaining her freedom and her life.

The tiny woman gave Gold a beaming grin, almost as if she were proud of him, praising him for simply doing the decent thing, but Emma decided not to dwell on the particulars and simply thank their lucky stars that at least this much had gone better than they could have hoped. If they could maintain some sort of truce with Gold, it would be one less foe to keep a wary eye on and their collective energy could be turned back to keeping Henry – and the rest of Storybrooke – safe from Regina and her twisted, power-mad mother.

Meanwhile, the pawnbroker looked to each of them standing in his doorway in turn, his manner not exactly friendly, but certainly not as chilling and nefarious as it had been previously. Even though it might be reluctant, his carefully considered words left Emma blowing out a soft breath of relief. "Belle speaks the truth," he stated with a small nod for she, Graham, and Ruby. "Thank you for finding her… for setting her free…" His words actually did faltered slightly at that, and Emma was stunned, trying to decide if it were emotion or anger choking the man she would previously have assumed heartless on his very words. "I would have always wondered…I had long believed her dead. This will clear our debt, as you say. Consider our accounts balanced."

Belle stepped forward to embrace Graham and Ruby each one more time, whispering a particularly heartfelt thanks to the former Huntsman and looking near reluctant as well as a bit nervous to see them go.

However, Gold was not quite finished Emma realized as he spoke out once more, voice echoing icily through his shop and freezing them all in place. "We are even _as long as_ you do not get in my way. Regina will pay for what she's done, and interference will not lead anywhere pleasant for you." His words were so final, so resolved, that none of them could find a response to counter with – at least not until he had continued, deceptively placid stare sliding over to Killian, where it darkened and narrowed, making Emma's hackles rise, as he fairly hissed, "And _you_ … don't think that the courtesy extends to you."

Killian glowered, face equally clouded and dark, and betraying none of the shivers of trepidation that skittered down Emma's spine. "Of course not, Crocodile," he spat, mouth twisting to scowl back at the Dark One with matching animosity. "I would expect no better."

Emma wanted to pull him from the shop and away, not liking that in the moment, facing down his greatest enemy, Killian Jones looked every bit as dark and menacing as his nemesis.

Thankfully, they didn't linger much longer to risk the tentative truce they had attained. Graham gave Gold a business-like nod of acceptance to his terms and sent Belle a doubtful look, as if hoping to convey that she could come with them, they hadn't brought her there simply to see her trapped in a different cage. She gave the barest shake of her head and then turned to place a small, staying hand on Gold's, as if assuming the responsibility to see that he did not go after them all with fire – or Killian at least. It made Emma wonder yet again just what sort of relationship Belle and Gold had once shared beyond servant and master, and it also made her wonder about the stolen, yearning glances and seeming closeness between this newfound young woman and her friend Graham. Whatever they meant, she hoped it wouldn't lead to trouble and pain for them both. Particularly if Rumplestiltskin himself had noticed their connection, Emma couldn't help herself from fearing it would put her friend right back into the Dark One's sights. He was clearly a possessive sort – but it with actually possessions or the people whom he loved – and if Belle were on that list, Emma sense the sinister man behind the tailored suit and falsely mild manner would not take kindly to another holding her fancy.

Shaking those worries and questions from her head, Emma tried to focus on the present tasks before them. Stepping into motion, she breathed a silent sigh of relief when Killian allowed her to grip the hand that hung slack from his left arm, turning at her barest pressure to follow her from the store.

As soon as they were out on the street again in the open air, free of the close, musty, and strangely expectant, heavy air of the pawn ship, Killian's tight stance seemed to ease, the tension radiating from his every muscle fled, and he stood before her looking almost drained. Ruby and Graham gave Emma quick, ascertaining looks as if each of her friends were making sure she would be alright. Emma smiled easily, appreciating the gestures, but knowing they were unnecessary. As soon as that troubling darkness of revengeful wrath had left Killian's features, she'd known it was alright again – that whatever had abruptly come over him was gone.

Once her friends were several paces away; Ruby on her way back to the diner, and Graham back to the station, she turned back to the rather shamefaced man who stood before her, head lowered as blue eyes peeked up at her, apology and fading turmoil swimming in the brilliant blue orbs.

"Wanna explain what that was all about in there, Jones?" she asked wryly, tilting her head to study the hand she had yet to release, urging him further along the sidewalk until they paused a better distance from the shop, at a turn off of Main Street from which Emma could see the forest on their left. She hoped it would both put the man beside her more at ease, and put them out of sight and hearing for nosy passersby.

He shook his head dazedly, as if struggling to rid himself from some sort of fog. "I don't rightly know what came over me, Swan," he admitted, voice sincere in its confusion. "It was as though merely seeing the bloody demon again face-to-face made me lose my head. Being in his presence brought all that he too from me, all of his cruelties, back to blaring, painful life."

Looking down at his feet, he shuffled them almost boyishly. It made Emma stifle a bit of a chuckle in spite of the true seriousness of the situation. Killian was far from a boy – every cell and every nerve in her body was aware of him, practically screaming to get closer, to touch, to hold, to taste – and yet, the innocent, contrite air he gave off just then brought the idea to mind all the same. Stunned, and unsure what to do, for several moments Emma merely gaped at him, her brain muddled and her next words uncertain, trying to right herself from the almost magnetic pull he exerted and think straight. "It's okay," she finally murmured lowly, "We all have moments of weakness. I wasn't accusing you – just trying to see if you were alright now."

Biting his lip Killian nodded gruffly before swiping a hand back through his unruly dark hair. "Aye, I've control of myself again…" but his words trailed off and he winced as if in pain before lifting his gaze to finally capture hers head on. "But Lass…Swan…it _isn't_ okay, at all! I came along to help you stand up to him. To aid in your endeavor. My presence and experience were meant to add safety to the venture, and instead I presented another liability. What if I had gotten you hurt? I – I could have caused your death…the way I did Milah's…"

No matter how the sudden shift in him that she had witnessed in the pawn shop had shaken her, it disturbed Emma more to see him so distraught now, and blaming himself for an instinctual reaction. She hadn't fear him putting them in danger, but him giving the Dark One ammunition to hurt _him_ further. He might be daring, strong and resourceful – a survivor of much which would have felled or defeated a lesser man, but he was still mortal. She knew that haunted look behind his eyes that she had already glimpsed when he wasn't on guard; it was one she had felt the weight of carrying herself for most of her life. Never enough for some prospective families, always too much to handle for the social workers and overcrowded group homes, Emma had spent years blaming the pain stuffed down inside on herself, and she could see the aftermath of the same damage in the beautifully flawed man before her – as like recognizing like, the kinship unmistakable.

Yes, he had for a second let show the beast beneath his skin, but that didn't frighten her. Instead, in some way, it thrilled and intrigued her. With scars of her own, Emma was drawn to the strength that had let another like her survive, despite what the world might have thrown his way. Though Emma hadn't known Killian Jones long, something inside her knew him as well as she knew herself, and years couldn't make her understand him any better.

Hating to see the self-loathing and the way he was beating himself up, Emma moved closed without thinking, standing so near him that their chests brushed and their toes touched as the feet meet. Bracketing his stubbled face between her smaller hands, she forced him to look at her head-on, a soothing, shushing voice leaving her throat as she crooned lowly, "Hey…hey… _Killian_ …stop…Don't do that to yourself, okay?...You hear me?"

Almost without realizing it, her fingers began stroking lovingly over a faded scar that ran over his cheekbone under his right ear. The motion might have gone unnoticed by her even then, as she gently rocked back and forth, easing him with her in a calming rhythm, except for the low whine that left the back of his throat at the repeated touch.

Emma couldn't help the beguiled giggle that left her at the unexpected sound, reminding her of nothing more than a dog having its ears scratched and loving every minute. It might be much too soon, it might be moving much too fast, but it that moment, overcome with affection, desire, and the need to heal the ache that clearly plagued him, to let Killian know that she saw him and he _was_ wanted and needed after however long he had been alone, she simply could not hold back. Standing on her toes, Emma reached up to press her lips to his, pulling him down to meet her by the collar, a desperate clash of lips and tongues and heated breaths with heartbeats pounding against each other. It was heady and intense, and for several long, blissful seconds, Emma's world reeled in warm, hazy kaleidoscope patterns while she clung to Killian's firm shoulders for balance and breathed in his scent of rain, pine, and earth – a hint of salty brine in the mix as well tickling her senses.

And then the moment was forcibly broken, Killian pulling back with a gasp, even as his face flushed with the same pleasure that was coursing through her being. _"Emma!"_ His exclamation of alarm tore from his throat, though nearly swallowed by a hum of pleasure before he broke their embrace. "Mhmm, L-lass…. _No_!" Killian jerked away sharply, icicle bright eyes flashing, mouth open, gaping wide-eyed at her as he gripped her biceps firmly to hold her at arm's length. That tongue, which mere moment ago had been performing a delicious introduction with her own that had sent her mind wandering on just what said tongue might feel like trailing across her skin, traced his lower lip, teasing her as he panted roughly, attempting to regain his breath. His voice was hoarse, pained, but desperately serious when he spoke again. "Stop, Emma… _please._ We can't."

"Why not?" she challenged, her own eyes flashing, frustrated that he had pulled back just when she'd finally found the courage to offer herself to him – to give them a chance. And she suspected greatly that his hesitation was only from his own self-recrimination, fear that his past might somehow catch up to him and hurt her in his future. Her voice crackled in the charged air between them, wavering as she stepped right back into his space once more, body practically vibrating with their nearness and her fervent determination.

Killian again raked an agitated hand through his unruly hair, making the inky-dark strands stand on end wildly. His hand slapped loudly back down against his jean-clad thigh as he blew out a harsh breath, and Emma could sense the strength and power coiled tightly within him as he faced her; chest heaving, muscles clenched, and body barely restraining his desire to pace or to flee, however iron-willed his control. It was clear that touching him again might truly snap his tightly held grip on his wilder impulses. Strangely that was all Emma found she wanted.

Meeting his eyes squarely all the same and refusing to let him pull away, Emma pressed in a bit further, a step that carried her toward him again, even as he edged back enough to match it. "Please, Swan… _Emma_ … You were right before. If we did this…What I am…" he licked those perfect lips, stumbling for words to offer explanation. The nervous action only drew her eyes more pointedly to his mouth however, that firm mouth which had been devouring her whole mere minutes past, kissing her senseless until he had ripped them apart, leaving her desperately wanting. "You're just learning who you are, about your powers, your family, your boy. You don't need this, don't need _me –_ and even if you did, I'm not the one. You saw what happened back there. I'm a danger to you. You must know that. I could hurt you all too easily – as could those who aim to hurt me – and I cannot bear to be the cause… I simply couldn't live with myself. _Not again_."

His eyes were stormy and dark as he turned his head to break away from her direct stare. The blue depths of them roiled with unsettled emotion and fear, even as he grit his teeth, shaking his head once more while she stepped forward, faster this time than he could retreat.

Catching his arm, Emma quickly replaced her hands on either side of his unshaven face, letting her fingertips lightly stroke along his warm skin. "I don't care," she countered firmly, even as she noticed part of the reason his gaze was so turbulent was that the usually pure sky blue was being shot through with almost unnatural dark swirls, changing them to something hazy and unsettled; matching the change that the rest of him would undergo before the night was through. "Do you think I don't know what who you are does to you? Or what…" she faltered for only a moment, and then pulled him down a bit, close enough that she could bring his forehead to rest against her own, "or what it's cost you?"

Killian opened his mouth to argue once more. Emma could see the warnings and doubts even before he began. She watched wild urging, heady and compelling, war across his features with the sense he was trying to exert. Then she saw logic lose the battle to feeling, and with a rumbling growl of frustration he surged forth the last few inches separating them, and meshed his lips with hers once more. He tried to hold himself back, Emma could sense it, but soon those large, burning warm hands were tracing all over her body, down her back, across her waist, back up her arms, as if mapping her to memory with his hungry touch.

In the second before Emma closed her eyes and gave herself over to the sensation, she mused –and probably without nearly as much trepidation as she ought to have held – that the wolf within him seemed to have gone free.

When they finally broke apart from their second kiss and moved off down the street, back toward the station to rejoin Graham, figure out how to prepare for Regina resurfacing and how to keep everyone safe, they did it joined in purpose, as a single unit and with new resolve to face the challenge together as a team.

They didn't notice – were too far down the street with their back already turned – to see the silent cloud of purple magical smoke materialize just before Gold's shop, its front door open, a stately hooded figure in long, deep colored robe swiftly enter.

Rumplestiltskin had lingered in his dimly-lit and treasure-stuffed shop long after the interlopers had gone back out onto the street and to their own little lives. He knew that once they were free of his debt all of their focus would return to seeking out Regina and Cora, safeguarding the town and young Master Mills, everything that was to be expected of a gaggle of self-styled heroes and role models. He had no time nor interest in such things. There was himself, his goals, and the very few people he cared about – as long as others stayed out of his way, he had very little concern for their affairs or well-being at all.

He had been overcome with relief and a warmth he had deemed long vanished at seeing Belle again; however, while he felt as close to love for her as he could manage for anyone, he could not allow her presence to derail him from his meticulous plans to find Bae in this world, finally near fruition, nor could he have her stopping him from finally seeing his oldest foe brought down; he would see his plots fulfilled by whatever means necessary, and Belle would not appreciate some methods he might take if he had to. As forgiving as she had always been of his foibles, his weakness for power, and the inherent cowardice his Darkness preyed upon, she would not condone his intent to see Killian Jones – the man who had stolen his wife away with his good looks, his silvered tongue, and his dashing life of adventure – at last pay the price for his theft. Deep down, the sinister man knew that many would already think the Captain had long since paid for his wrongs in suffering: the breaking of his heart with Milah's death, the maiming of his hand, and the darkening of his once-young and hopeful soul, had more than returned the once humble spinner's injury. Yet, Rumplestiltskin would not see it so – no one took what was his and lived to tell the tale. Jones might have the strength and regenerative abilities of his wolf nature, but that posed only a minor hindrance for one of his powers. He would see his werewolf enemy vanquished once and for all.

In light of this determination, after speaking with Belle briefly, embracing her gladly after so long apart, Gold had importuned her (and she had accepted) to go on to his home, had directed her to the place- to change into better clothes than the shabby gown and jacket she had worn in the hospital, to help herself to any food which she found appealing, and then assured her that he would follow shortly once he had finished just a few small tasks at the shop. He listened carefully, hearing Belle move to the back room, humming as she selected a few books from his stock there and then smiled knowingly as he heard the back door close with her exit.

The Dark One waited a minute, and then two, making certain that Belle was truly gone and wouldn't be coming back. Then a knowing smile and the impish voice of the Enchanted Forest version of the monster came over him. "Come on out, Dearie," he coaxed silkily, "I know you're there."

With that, another purple cloud of smoke poofed visibly near the shop's entrance and Cora herself appeared before him. "Rumplestiltskin, as I live and breathe," Cora stated, simpering noxiously at his simple store and the seemingly simple man the Dark One was posing as. "Is this truly where you've been keeping yourself? I wouldn't have even known you."

He snarled at her clearly mocking tone. She was still darkly beautiful, just she had always been, even back when he loved her once in their old land, but she was also devious and hungry for power - for her own advancement, her daughter's - and he knew that now; he'd learned it the hard way long ago.

"I'd merely have though the Dark One would have someplace more grand than this in the new land," she continued, not willing to let her nettling go.

"Perhaps," he countered. "Or perhaps I know what I really want, and am willing to wait with some patience."

"That's never been my strong suit," the witch countered saucily.

"Yes, I know," he tipped his head in acknowledgement. "With that in mind, let's cut to the chase. Tell me what I can do for you...so you can be on your way." His smile was sharp as he drawed long, thin fingers on the glass countertop and kept his eyes fixed on his first pupil.

"Oh no, Rumple dear, it's what I can do for you," she purred. "You see my daughter wants her boy back, and this sheriff's deputy Emma Swan stands in her way. I see that she's been a thorn in your side as well, and I also know that she's joined up with another long-standing enemy of yours. He came here with me, but that doesn't mean we're still on the same side…" she paused with a leading look, pursing her lips as she studied him. "I think we can help each other."

"I'm listening," the pawnshop broker murmured, willing to hear her out, if not necessarily to trust her. "Regina and I have a plan. Something will happen to some innocent townsperson, which will look as though it's been caused by a flare-up, a misuse of magic - as if perhaps the Savior has lost control. Henry won't be seen as safe with her. If she should be accused, certainly you could help or you could prove who really did it, but if you don't… If you work with us, we can find a way to implicate the wolf as well. Yes, I know what he is. His pretty face hides much, but not that."

"Indeed it does, and it's gotten him by for far too long," Rumpelstiltskin agreed darkly. Now looking more open to her plot, he added, "Continue."

"That's really all there is to it, unless you can add something to the mix."

There was a delightedly evil glimmer in Rumplestiltskin's eye as he mulled it over. "We shall see, we shall see."

Soon the two former enemies were striking hands, partners once more as they had been long ago. Emma, Killian, and the rest of the heroes had no idea what awaited them, with their two worst foes joining forces. The only one with a clue stood with bated breath in the back room of the shop. Belle hadn't left after all, having forgotten one of the books she'd wanted to take, and slipping back in soundlessly to grab it. She held her breath, frozen, and still hoping against hope he would not realize that she was still there. The others needed to be warned; they had to be. Tears poured down her face as she waited; listening, watching, and hoping against hope that she had heard wrong. But it seemed that this beast she had given chance after chance was still the monster he had always been, no matter how much she had hoped that things could be different. When she was finally certain not to be detected, she turned and slipped from the back door once again, unseen and in the hopes she could get to the rest of them in time.


	7. chapter six: where paths diverge

_chapter six ~ where paths diverge_

It was a rare and foreign pleasure to idly hold hands with someone she felt a true affection for, and warmth flooded Emma from where their joined fingers swung between she and Killian, occasionally brushing against her hips or his, the lingering sparks shooting out to the rest of her body. The luxury of it wasn't lost on her, nor did she want to let go, even as they stepped into the station – even as her cheeks flushed at the prospect of so openly showing their connection to her boss and anyone else who might be present within those walls.

As if sensing her reluctance to let go, but also her reserve, Killian gave her hand a gentle squeeze with his own before discreetly releasing her. Emma wasn't certain just how he understood, how he could read her so remarkably well, but as he reached ahead to hold the door for her and then leaned in close to whisper in her ear, the heat of his breath tickled her chin in a way she couldn't ignore, her heartbeat stuttered and caused her to trip clumsily over the strip of raised linoleum that stuck up unevenly in the entryway. "I'll be right beside you," he murmured lowly, and then stood straight again, though he remained near enough to her that she felt his body heat comfortingly at her side. The man must be psychic, or else his heightened animal senses allowed him to be in tune with the part of her that wanted to bask in the fiery attraction they'd just found, but also the part of her which instinctively pulled back, not wanting to dive too hastily, or trust too easily – not again. And perhaps most of all, the little girl within who had never had anything or anyone to hold close and call her own, who somehow wanted this good thing between them, just for a bit, to be theirs alone.

Turning her head just slightly to smile at him, Emma mouthed a silent "thank you", both for the support, knowing just what she needed and giving it, and for easily understanding her, which was not an experience she had encountered often in her life to that point. As they entered the large, open main room of the station, they found Graham in the space alone, clearly having been pacing in either agitation or excess nervous energy, she wasn't sure which. He had also been dragging his hands through his curly mop of light brown hair, as it was standing up in wild curls all over his head in the aftermath.

He whirled at the sound of their footsteps, not startled, but on guard, as if not sure who might be charging in, or perhaps even magically appearing. Kicking herself for her insensitivity, Emma's eyes were quick to take in the slight tremor in Graham's hands, even as he faced them head-on with a look of determination; he obviously meant to go down swinging at whomever might have arrived. He shoved both hands into his pockets almost immediately upon seeing them – making his friend and deputy ache for the fear and shame he was still carrying and for how desperate he was for those cracks in his strong, capable façade not to show. The sooner they located Regina and she paid for what she'd done, the better it would be – for more people than Emma could even count or would have initially realized.

"Just us," she announced with a lopsided half-smile and a shrug of her shoulder, hoping to put him at ease even a bit. "Sorry for the delay, but thought I'd better take a minute and make sure there wasn't some sort of showdown."

When she nodded toward Killian, he ducked his head, abashed at the way he'd nearly charged the most powerful dark magic wielder any of them knew in vain, pointless rage, and Graham even cracked a small, hesitant smile. "Yes, well," Killian mumbled, unconsciously scratching at his ear in embarrassment and even feeling a tinge of blush color his cheeks, "I'll admit it wasn't my finest hour."

Graham shrugged, nodding in true understanding and beckoning them toward seats at the desk filling the wide space not taken by the two small cells. "Believe it or not," the sheriff commiserated in a gruff, scratchy voice, "I've been there. Sometimes, even if you know you don't stand a chance, you just have to strike out, have to try to stop the evil. Otherwise…" he paused, swallowing hard and dropping his gaze from either of theirs and instead turning to needlessly straighten the stacks of papers on his desk before he continued, "the hurt is just too much, the wrong is just too horrible to let stand. You lose your head a little."

Killian nodded too, his voice equally rough and haunted as his tone caused the other man to look up with near relief shining in his eyes. "Aye, that's it exactly. You feel you must land at least one blow for your cause or you'll go mad."

Graham shook his head ruefully as if struggling to believe he had found another who knew what he was going through instinctively and made the fight to balance beast and man, justice and vengeance, seem every bit the trial it was, but also still a fight worth undertaking, with some sense of hope for the outcome. And he wasn't alone in his mission, not this time. In fact, he couldn't remember when he had ever had such allies.

Emma stepped forward then, not wanting to interrupt he and Killian if the talk was doing them good, but also knowing Graham well enough, and being aware he was enough like her to offer him work to focus on, to steady himself with, bringing them back to their purpose. "So," she questioned, with a studiously nonchalant air, "any ideas yet on just where our mayor turned evil magical ruler may be hiding out?"

Graham shook his head with a resigned sigh, indicating the mess of maps and town blueprints spread out before him on his desk. "Not with any certainty," he admitted, not at all enjoying the knowledge that with every moment their former mayor was on the loose, she was holed up safely somewhere, plotting her next move – a strike back at them in retaliation no doubt, a shiver he couldn't stop skittering unseen down his spine at what that could mean – and quite possibly with her sadistic mother to aid her in her nefarious plans.

He placed a work-calloused finger down on the diagram of the mayor's office, tapping it in consideration as he continued. "I do have one working theory, but I can't truly advise any of us check it out. If I'm right, they would almost certainly be walking right into a magical attack. However…" he drawled the word out, hesitating slightly, and Emma nearly wondered if her friend was holding back because he deemed both she and Jones hotheaded enough to go charging into battle the moment he revealed his hunch, and knowing the peril better than most, he didn't want that responsibility on his hands.

She reached across the desk to clasp his forearm for just a moment, her grip firm, but also meant to be at least somewhat encouraging. "Go on, we're good," she urged intently, giving him a small, tight smile and bob of her head in what she could manage of assurance. "If you're thinking she's near the mayor's office, we need to know. My parents talked about going over there at some point today, trying to see if they could straighten things up and install some sort of de facto leader until an election could be held, and set up a headquarters for those who are still trying to locate lost loved ones and re-acclimate since the curse's breaking."

"Your mother's over there?" Graham blurted, wide-eyed in alarm, his indecision suddenly galvanized into action at the news. "We need to get over there right away. I can only think Regina still wants her blood most of all; her hatred of your mother, her burning desire to see Snow White pay for her supposed wrongs, is what landed all of us here…what set all her evil in motion to begin with."

"Wait, hold on Mate," Killian tried, attempting to be the voice of reason he had failed to serve as before. "You haven't told us why there…"

Emma gave a quick shake of her head to Killian as he trailed off, seeing as clearly as she did that there was no stopping the man or slowing him down – not when he was in such a state of concern. True to her suspicions, Graham didn't even pause to answer Killian's question, already slinging his jacket from over the back of his chair and onto his rangy frame while starting toward the exit.

"We need to go!" he warned again, motioning impatiently for them to follow. "I'll tell you the rest on the way."

Without any further argument, Emma and Killian simply turned back the way they'd come in order to follow him. The more his agitation increased, it upped her concern for her newly found mother and father as well, to the point that Emma found her breath going thready as they hurried along the street outside.

By the time the three of them had reached town hall, out of breath from their brisk half-walk, half-jog and cheeks reddened from the chill air, Graham had explained in short snatches of speech his suspicions of a hidden door within Regina's office and how, though he had never seen it used or been able to discover where it lead, he had always assumed it could lend her Majesty a quick getaway to some lair where she could watch and wait in secret. Not only that, but the even more troubling issue at the moment was that she could also use whatever hidden passage was concealed there to come back to the very center of town unseen and begin wreaking havoc before they were even aware of her presence.

As they clattered into the austere black-and-white decor of the office which Emma remembered shivering in the coldness of briefly when she had first arrived in town, her eyes flew in relief to her parents talking quietly, heads bent together and seemingly quite well. They in turned looked up quickly at the new arrivals, startled by their haste and worried expressions, but their aspects warming naturally when they saw Emma moving toward them in obvious relief.

"Emma, Sweetie, what is it?" Snow asked, her sweet voice dripping motherly concern in a way that soothed Emma's spirit just then, more than she knew how to measure, if the truth be told. There had certainly been times since finally meeting her traditional fairy tale parents that she as an adult woman with the rough and tumble modern life she'd had to live had felt wrong footed or even hampered and smothered by them and what they might expect from her. Certainly it had been a difficult adjustment to find that the roommate and gal pal she'd drunk shots of McCutcheon's and discussed affairs and one night stands with was the long lost mother she had never known - and proper royalty as well. Still, when the dark-headed woman turned to her just then with a doting smile and held her hand out to take Emma's, the little girl within her 28-year-old self still melted a bit, smiling back tremulously and stepping forward to take the offered hand.

"I'm fine, Mary Margaret," she assured, nearly having to blink back a rogue tear at her mother's brilliant smile of acknowledgement and the way she lightly cradled Emma's cheek in her cool, soft, maternal hand. "We all are," she added in a quieter voice. "It was you two we were worried about. We realized Regina might have a secret passage in and out of here, and she could be lying in wait for you."

Mary Margaret's eyes clouded over, and her smile turned more than a bit sad at that. Her voice was wistful and resigned when she answered, "Perhaps it would be better if she found me unawares. All the pain and loss that has come, just from her wish to punish me. Maybe it would be better if I faced her once and for all."

Emma's breath caught around the lump in her throat too large for her to swallow, but it was Graham who spoke up then before she could regain her voice.

"Nay Princess Snow, do not even think it," he cautioned seriously, stepping forward and sketching a reverent sort of half-bow from the waist, and even in his modern jeans and sheriff's badge, he pulled it off with barely a trace of irony. His clear awe and devotion in manner toward her schoolteacher mother suddenly brought a vision of the Huntsman in the Enchanted Forest that he had been to Emma's eyes in a way she had not pictured until that moment. "Please, your Highness, you must understand. There is no way to reason with her. She would seek your destruction no matter what you tried. However, you cannot give yourself over to her You are our kingdom's hope, its destined ruler. As long as you live, there is yet faith that one day we will return, that all will be made right, and that what we have lost may yet be restored. Many have suffered to see you remain to fight her evil, but I know I echo their sentiments when I say that the sacrifice is worth it. You cannot take her deeds of cruelty upon your own conscience."

Looking every bit the royalty she was, her mother's benevolent beauty of face struck Emma as she knowingly and gratefully spoke to the man who had once, long ago, saved her life. Snow shook her head at Graham's loyal words with yet another sigh. "If only I could believe that," she murmured. "No one person, whoever they might be, could be worth so much pain and suffering. You yourself are one who has paid all too much, Huntsman," she added, calling him by his former name and indicating that she knew the price which had been exacted upon him for his mercy. "I owe you such a debt that it can hardly be repaid."

Graham shook his head, looking down at his feet almost bashfully. "Do not think on it, milady Snow," he finally mumbled.

"Oh, but I must!" she pressed, stepping forward to clasp his hand with the one of hers not still holding Emma's. "I can hardly undo what you have suffered, but I would at least see you properly thanked for your bravery and honor."

They might have gone back and forth like that for some time, Emma reflected wryly, meeting Killian's amused gaze under dark, raised brows that clearly indicated he was thinking much the same thoughts, even across the room, if they had not been interrupted by the sudden entrance of Belle, who came charging through the door and into the office where they were all gathered, wild-eyed and out of breath. She was also, however, certainly on a mission and determined, an urgent resolve in every line of her bearing that forced Emma to immediately take wary notice. Though the young woman before them had still been withdrawn and weakened from her ordeal when they had left her a short time ago, it had already been apparent that she had nerves of steel; she wouldn't have survived what she had intact in any other way - and a core of strength beneath the deceptively delicate surface. If Emma had harbored any doubt of that though, it was laid to rest upon viewing her now. Belle's eyes crackled as they sought out the face she had come for, zeroing in on Graham like a magnet and hurrying forward, both worry and anger vibrating from her almost palpably in her haste.

"Sheriff! Please, you need to hear this!" she exclaimed.

Graham was already moving to meet her in the middle of the room, alert and attuned to her distress, and took her trembling hands in his own larger ones. "It's alright, Belle," he assured, his thick, lilting brogue wrapping more noticeably around the words and the sound of her name in his attempt to soothe. "We're all listening. What is it?"

Her story spilled out in a disillusioned torrent of words, no only admitting that the man she had hoped to be reunited with, the true heart she had always believed lay within the Dark One, had been a lie, but that none of them were truly safe - deals negated or no. Her loyalty to Gold had been repaid with treachery as she had witnessed him reteaming with the Queen of Hearts who double-crossed him long ago, and she knew they needed to be even more onguard; someone was being targeted as a useful victim to their murderous plans, and Emma and Hook at the very least would be made to seem incompetent; at worst, guilty for the crime.

As the details she had seen and heard poured out, Emma saw Killian's good hand ball into a first, clenching so tightly that his knuckles turned white, and she noticed (not without a fair bit of heat rising up within her) the muscle working in his jaw. He shook his head in pent-up anger and frustratedly jerked his face away from her, avoiding her gaze when he saw Emma trying to catch his eye. She could read the emotions he was telegraphing to her as clearly as she had earlier sworn that he could read hers. He was cursing himself for a fool, hating the fact that he had given this Cora the means to reach their world, even knowing she was dangerous. So blinded by his desire to locate his Crocodile's lair and skin his old nemesis at long last, he had not stopped to question what the sorceress with the magic to make it possible could seek there.

Emma wanted to reach out to him, to tell him that he hadn't known this would be her plan, that he had parted ways with the woman upon their arrival, and that if he hadn't benefited from her powers and offered his vessel for her ride, the witch would still have found another way. It wasn't the time for confessions and comfort though, and she sensed her attempts would fall on deaf ears at present. Sighing instead, and biting back the assurance she ached to give, Emma merely watched the pain pass over his darkening brow, stunned at how even tormented he was so deeply beautiful it stole her breath.

Once Belle had finished speaking, Graham wasted no time jumping into action, and his words snapped Emma from contemplation of Killian back into focus on what they were going to do. He directed them firmly and decisively, his choices making smart, logical sense and reminding Emma that despite the stress he was under, despite the fact that this was much more danger than the little town he aimed to protect had ever seen, and regardless of the painful memories reasserting themselves in his mind, her friend was good at his job, and they were right to listen to him now. "Belle, you shouldn't be seen with us too much…" Graham mused slowly, "...it might tip Gold off that we've been warned. Go with Snow to the B & B. She and Ruby will help you get settled in a room, and you can figure out what you want to do next." He paused, looking at Belle a bit sheepishly, with a nod of his head as he deferred to her. "I'm sorry," he added. "I guess I simply assumed you wouldn't want to stay with him after all…"

Though there were pained, regretful tears in her eyes, Belle shook her head vehemently and gave him a brave smile. "You thought right," she avowed staunchly.

Graham nodded once again and added, "I'll join you there later, see how you're getting on," with a smile full of such affection Emma could see its gentling effect on Belle even from the outside looking in.

Mary Margaret and Belle left, and Graham watched them go with quiet, rapt attention until they had disappeared from sight, then turned to the rest of them. "It's more important now than ever that we find the passage she might be using. As the Evil Queen, Regina may be unhinged, but she is calculating too. She'll have a plan and a way to manage whatever she's got in store." He moved toward the large, imposing fireplace behind the mayor's desk nearly taking up an entire side of the room, explaining even as he went, "I was just going to check…"

His voice trailed off as he ran questing fingers over the mantelpiece and down around the sides of the monstrosity, feeling almost on instinct until suddenly something popped free under his touch. The ancient stone, hidden behind black-and-white wallpaper groaned as it moved enough to reveal an uneven crack down the height of the fireplace - one which could open into a passage wide enough for a full-sized adult to pass through.

Graham looked back to the rest of them before pulling out a flashlight and moving to step forward. David and Emma were poised to follow when Killian interrupted. "You three go ahead. I have another idea that might be fruitful. Gold owns a cabin out in the woods all by itself, seemingly the perfect place for hiding out and secretive plotting. Not to mention that there is always the Mills family crypt in the cemetery, which we all know is quite probably where Regina holed up. Seeing as time is of the essence, why don't I begin at one of those points, and we'll cover more ground at once? We may very well meet each other in the middle of the passage anyway, you from her and me from the crypt. But if there's a chance it isn't the same, part of this is my fault, allowing that poisonous viper to get here and join her daughter's cause. If I can help us get to her sooner, all the better."

Seeming to take the fact that no one had argued with him for agreement, Killian gave a firm nod of his head and turned to leave. Yet worry gnawed at Emma's stomach, and she couldn't allow them to split up and leave it like that, not when Killian still appeared to be blaming himself. She couldn't have him thinking she agreed. Quickly, she assured her father and her boss that she'd catch up with them in a minute, then ran after him. Catching Killian by grasping his hand just before he could slip out the door of the station, she asked, "Are you alright? ...Sure you don't want me to go with you?"

"I will be once my err is corrected, and that witch is no longer on the loose," he gave her a half-smile that just barely touched his eyes, an echo of the sparkle that usually lit their blue depths. However, he must have seen the worry in her gaze, or sensed it in her tense concentration as she continued to clutch his hand in hers. "Fear not, Swan," he added lowly, almost right in her ear and causing a tingling sensation to run through her limbs despite her other concerns. "I'll find you the moment I return."

She wanted to laugh at how much his words reminded her of the promise her parents always made to find each other, and she had to choke back the almost pleading reply of "Always?" that flew unexpectedly to the tip of her tongue. Instead, she offered what she hoped was a heartening bit of sass and challenging smile. "I'll hold you to that," she vowed.

Emma did finally let go then, heading back into the station even as Killian turned toward the nearby tree line. She had slipped out of view, and he was too intent on the path before him to notice when a slight, suited figure with an ornate gold-topped cane entered the woods leading to the town cemetery at a safe distance behind him. The pursuer might have been cautious, but his was clearly tracking Killian all the same.

It wasn't long after Killian entered the shadows of the trees overhead and the brush all around that he knew something was not right. His senses were impeccable beyond all mere human capabilities, and though the niggling sound was faint, he had no doubt he was being followed. Beyond his werewolf duality of nature, Killian wasn't magic; yet, the awareness that boon or curse - whichever his shifting was - granted him the preternatural sight, hearing, and smell to be sure that more beings were in the forest than himself, the twittering birds, and the few occasional scurrying small creatures he could hear in the undergrowth.

For a moment, he considered taking his lupin form to cover distance faster and be most ready to fight if attacked, but not knowing who or what dogged his steps, Killian hesitated - unsure whether or not he should reveal his wolf. Instead, he crossed the small clearing he had reached, not far from where he had learned the small property which belonged to Gold was located, placing himself so nothing but trees were firmly at his back and he could clearly sight his pursuant the moment the stepped into view. If they hoped to surprise or attack him unaware, he would at least steal that pleasure from them.

His skin prickled with tension and nervous anticipation as he waited, listening as intently as possible for any hint that might give away what threat he was about to face. He had seen the Queen of Heart's magic in action, had felt the cold grip of her anger when they first met, and had witnessed her ruthless destruction firsthand in the Enchanted Forest. If she were to emerge from the trees across the clearing, he knew that he stood little chance of defeating her powers, as a wolf or a man, but he wouldn't go down without giving her a fight.

The longer he waited, straining to hear and see, Killian became convinced that it was not her, nor her daughter, who followed him. The sound of the steps were light, taken by a slightly built person, and one who was in no hurry, measured and calculatedly calm. There was also a slight unevenness to the pace - as of one who favored one side or walked with a limp. By the time the footsteps had grown quite near, just beyond the edges of cleared space he stood in, Killian had already deduced that it was Rumplestiltskin who haunted his steps.

When the paces halted, eerie silence falling all around, Killian steeled himself for the impact of whatever the Dark One might hurl his way unseen; determined to make his foe emerge and at least stand man-to-man before he employed whatever dark spell he might have at the ready. Squaring his shoulders, Jones called out in a harsh but steady voice, "Come on out and face me, Dark One. I know you're there."

Slowly, dramatically, the evil imp who had maimed his hand and murdered his first love emerged from the shadows and stepped into Killian's view, looking as dangerous and unhinged as he had on that day so long ago; his visage just as monstrous and every bit as daunting. Killian didn't know what he had hoped would be different when he faced this villain again, but he had chased this moment across realms and years, and he would not succumb without inflicting whatever damage he could. Emma flashed into his mind at that second - her golden hair, her bright eyes - and his resolve was strengthened. He wouldn't see this fiend hurt or kill another person he loved (yes, _loved,_ he knew it to be true even as his mind first thought it) even if he had to pay a fatal price to insure the fact.

His Crocodile's gruesome grin of satisfaction stretched across his odious face, which slowly turned greenish and leathery before his eyes, giving Killian the long-remembered reptilian impression he had witnessed in the past. His words were a sinister hiss of warning that slithered in the werewolf's gut as he taunted, "Here I am, Dearie. Do you really think you're ready to face me?"

Killian gave a small nod, readying for battle, but barely had time to flinch in horrified recognition before catching the glint of silver in the Dark One's hand as he raised it to strike.


	8. chapter seven: old heat of a raging fire

_chapter seven ~ old heat of a raging fire_

There was no time for Killian to react; not to charge in counterattack, to retreat, to duck or dodge - he barely had time to think that the flash of silver he had seen in Gold's hand meant nothing good for him, and it was already too late. Though he had realized he was being followed and turned to face his pursuer in a relatively open space before they could attack unseen, it had not been his Crocodile that he expected. Knowing Gold's vengeful nature as he did, Killian had believed (a horrible miscalculation, it would seem) that the Dark One would be at least immediately consumed with plotting his former pupil's demise for what she had done to his clearly much beloved maid. When he'd turned to face the person creeping along behind him, he had fully expected Cora - or possibly Regina - who were both much more likely to simply gloat and soliloquize before actually getting down to business, giving him time to figure out his defense, even if they welded magic and he did not.

His sworn enemy however offered no such luxury, striking out as soon as he had spoken, with a swift and vicious accuracy that nearly felled Killian in one disastrous motion. It would seem that Gold had not relied most immediately on his powers, but had struck first with a quite human - and deadly effective - tool. The glint of silver Killian had spotted too late was from a small handgun, its size so compact and discreet that it had barely been visible in Gold's grasp until he raised it to fire.

The shot struck home, and the fire that spread, not just from the spot in his shoulder where the bullet hit, but through his veins brought the further sickening realization. The bullet was silver as well, already poisoning and draining even as the fact of it reached his brain with startling clarity. The imp had never fought him fair, and it should really no longer be a shock.

"Coward!" Killian growled, hand immediately going to his shoulder in an attempt to focus him on staying upright in the face of his nemesis and staunching the blood he can already feel welling to the entry site. He took a step forward, wishing in the moment he still carried the cutlass safely tucked away aboard his ship upon his person. He needed something to brandish as the old crocodile stalked closer, knowing he had injured his prey, even as Killian felt himself weakening.

Even more frightening, of course, was the fact that he would soon be forced to shift into his wolf form. Though normally being a large, powerful wild animal with teeth and claws at his disposal to fight back would be comforting, he felt vulnerable as well having his secret, other side exposed to Rumplestiltskin against his will. Not to mention, he also lost his human thought process and strategy against an all-too-cunning foe once he transformed. Yet, if he lost much more blood, or the Dark One landed another strike, it would become inevitable. The werewolf body reverted back to its elemental form to heal itself, to protect so to speak, and though he could grit his teeth and stall it for a time, eventually it would happen anyway, and resisting would only make the shift more painful.

Stumbling to his knees, Killian tried to brace his hands on the rough forest floor to push himself back up. Gold was slowly moving ever closer, and he couldn't bear to face the fiendish villain bowed and shaking as he was - but it was to no avail. He could feel his tendons stretching and lengthening, his face tingling and the skin pulling taut, the pressure in his head excruciating as it literally began to elongate and change shape. His fingers were curling into claws in the dirt even as he tried to ball them together in fists, as if the whole metamorphosis could be halted by sheer force of will, despite what he knew.

A low, warning growl rumbled in his throat, reverberating through the small clearing. Remarkably, Gold did halt for a moment, just out of reach, studying him with a maniacal gleam in his beady eyes.

"Fascinating," he murmured, looking strangely engrossed in the process before him, giving a disturbing impression to something that normally felt as natural and simple as breathing to Killian. "Don't worry," he cackled in that unnerving high-pitched voice which alerted Killian to the fact even before he could shake his head to look up with clear vision at the facade of unassuming pawnbroker vanishing to once more reveal the demon who had maimed him permanently and taken his love's very life. "I'll wait, _mutt,_ until we can look at each other wearing our true faces."

Unable to hold off any longer, Killian curled into himself slightly, and he knew the shift was taking hold. The itchy, tingling sensation of hair sprouting thickly all over his body, his teeth growing and sharpening in what was rapidly becoming a snout, and then at last the cracking, bending, and rearranging that for a second nearly debilitated him, before he stood crouched in the dirt and dry leaves, a large, snarling black wolf.

Knowing he had not a moment to waste before the Dark One's morbid curiosity faded and he attacked again, Killian lunged for the monster, teeth flashing and snapping wildly. But he never made it. A force caught him in mid-air and threw him back to the ground with stunning force. The same power held him there, pinned to the ground, immobilized and crushing him with ever-increasing pressure, until the pressing of the wounded shoulder into the hard-packed forest floor squeezed a yelp of pain from him.

Looking up dizzily, he saw Rumplestiltskin standing over him, hand outstretched and glowing with an eerie red light. He was holding him down with magic, and even if the wound he had already dealt could heal with the traces of silver still in his blood where the bullet went through, he saw that the Dark One simply wouldn't take the chance of actually fighting him fairly. The incapacitation he was suffering was more than enough, but Killian sensed there was more yet to come.

Leaning over him now, Gold tossed the gun aside to pull out a gleaming sharp blade that he brandished before Killian's eyes - now those of a wolf - but still capable of registering that this too was silver and capable of wringing all too much pain from him before the Dark One actually took his life. He tried once more to snap at the hand so close to his snout, but the silver and the loss of blood had already weakened him, making it a rather pitiful gesture, and the snarl he emitted proved to be the only gesture of any real threat he could muster.

"Now, now, let's have none of that," Gold tsked, affecting the tone of a disappointed elder as he crouched over Killian, a tremor running through the wolf that he could not hold in. Gold waved his hand once more, and Killian felt his jaw latch closed. He couldn't snap or bite - his last defense - as the silver blade was held aloft once more; the magic binding his mouth as securely as if it had been a muzzle lashed with rope. He thrashed his head back and forth in a near panic at having nothing he could do against the coming onslaught.

"You really are a pathetic beast, aren't you?" Gold mocked. Running the knife along the tufts of coarse fur, teasing the way Killian's animal instincts caused him to shiver, sensing the danger and unable to curb the natural reaction.

Slowly, the Dark One trailed the sinister weapon down a flank, and ever so seamlessly increased the pressure until he was slicing a trail of pain through fur, skin, and muscle, laying open Killian's leg. When he reached the paw that rested somewhat stunted and immobile on the ground, Gold dug in deeper still, forcing an involuntary whimper and carving a fiery shot of agony across what would be his human wrist to the hand which had been useless to Killian since their last fight centuries ago.

Weaker and weaker with each cut of the blade, Killian found himself rendered practically motionless and had all he could do not to whine helplessly at each new assault, not willing to give Rumplestiltskin the satisfaction of knowing how badly he'd hurt him. At last, his enemy hissed, practically in his large, furry ear, making sure he couldn't miss the hideous vow. "Now that I have you where I want you - at my mercy, as you should be - nothing stops me from cutting out your heart and crushing it, ending your miserable existence at last, as I should have all those years ago."

His next swipe of the knife was the deepest and worst of all, and Killian only a had a moment to register what he thought was an angry, desperate shout from across the clearing, before his vision went murky, swirling away from his plight, and for a moment, awareness altogether.

They had barely ventured five minutes into the passage from behind Regina's fireplace, when Emma was arrested by such a staggering sense of panic and fear that she couldn't ignore it. Fumbling to a stop in the dark tunnel between Graham and her father, David walked into her at the abrupt halt and her flashlight fell from nerveless fingers and rolled away across the stone floor of the space. Clutching at her chest, Emma gaped breathlessly for a moment, not sure what was going on, while he dad quickly recovered himself and reach out firm, solid arms to steady her.

"Emma? What is it? What's wrong?" Graham pressed worriedly, bending as well in trying to meet her eyes.

She shook her head helplessly, clutching David's forearm to pull herself upright and trying to once more catch her breath. "I'm not sure," she managed, "but some - something isn't right."

"Do we need to go back?" her boss queried, his brow furrowed in concern and moving to gather up her dropped light. "Can you make it back?"

Emma shook her head again, more vigorously as she tried to make herself clear. "No, it isn't with us...at least...I don't think so."

Shakily, she stood up straight from leaning on David and tried to bring herself back under control. The immediate impact had dulled some, but she still felt a persistent ache in her chest; some pounding warning that things were not as they should be. Puzzling for a moment, Emma tried to consider. Had she heard or seen some sign that Regina or her mother were aware of their movements? Could they be walking into a trap? It didn't seem likely. Nothing appeared to be amiss around them, and David and Graham still stood right beside her. There wasn't anything she would have seen or heard in this close a space that they wouldn't have noticed as well.

No, the danger wasn't to them. Yet, she couldn't ignore the niggling worry that still tingled under the surface. As if to reaffirm, when she shook her head to clear the premonition and press on, another lancing pain shot through her chest.

She looked first to Graham, who handed her back her flashlight, and - though still appearing worried for her - didn't press her but merely turned back to gather his things again, ready to move forward if they were.

When she glanced to David however, she sensed some sort of dawning understanding in the look he gave her. There was a soft and almost sadly knowing expression within his eyes as they searched hers. "Is it in your chest?" he asked gently, as if not wanting to spook her, but to help her come to some realization on her own that he had already reached himself. "As if something is making your heart clench?"

Cold dread gripped Emma hard, sending a chill through her as she suddenly knew just what was causing her discomfort. Her mind rebelled at the possibility after so little time knowing him, yet the moment the idea hit her, Emma knew the fear was true and her anxiety only increased. _He_ was the one in trouble...Killian needed her. "It's Killian," she barely whispered, wide eyes locking on her father's as he nodded in indication that he had come to the same conclusion.

Though now feeling almost harried, in a rush to go to him as quickly as possible (and again marvelling at how intense their connection was, how desperate the need to assure his safety) Emma tilted her head curiously, bouncing lightly on the balls of her feet in her haste to be off but still needing to know, half wanting and half afraid to ask how her father had figured out what was going on inside her. "How did you know?"

Stepping closer, sensing it would be better accepted in her current state - his daughter might even welcome the support - David wrapped Emma into a loose hug, cradling the back of her head in his large, paternal hand. But even he could see her almost vibrating with tension and that she wasn't going to be able to stay still much longer. He gave her an encouraging smile as they stepped apart again. "I'll tell you the whole story sometime, okay? But for now, let's just say I've felt what you're describing firsthand… when Snow was in danger. We weren't even in the same place, but I knew she had been hurt all the same. I could feel her pain in my own body."

Emma swallowed hard, nodding her comprehension of his words, though her mind was floundering at the obvious meaning. "So, does that mean we're… I mean...do you think Killian and I are…" She couldn't quite say 'True Loves' in serious context, not just because she had really just met Killian, but also because up until coming back to Storybrooke with Henry, she wouldn't have even believed such a thing existed.

David looked her right in the eye, not deflecting or putting her off, but being completely honest. "I couldn't say. That's something the two of you will have to figure out for yourselves. I do, however, know what you're feeling. Don't worry about following us right now. I can help Graham. It's all under control."

Emma gave him a relieved, lopsided smile back, her heart rate already picking up again, readying herself to take off. "Are you sure?" she double-checked.

David nodded with certainty. "Absolutely. Right, Sheriff?"

Graham agreed easily, equally certain that they would be fine and not wanting Emma to be held back from what she needed to anymore than her dad.

"Thanks guys, really," Emma offered sincerely. She was already turning to go and edging back the way they had come "I hate to ditch you like this, but...I have to go. Something's wrong, and - crazy as it sounds - I need to find Killian."

"Understood," her dad assured simply. "Now go."

Emma didn't waste any time after that, moving as quickly as she possibly could through the darkened passageway they'd already traveled. She stepped out into the mayor's office once more and nearly jogged from town hall. The anxious feeling within her only continued to crest though, and once she was out in the open air she took off in a full-out run toward the trees, knowing that whatever was happening, her man was in the forest, and he needed her.

Killian wasn't sure how much longer he could withstand Gold's torment, caught in his animal form, unable to shift back or fight him, immobilized from the silver now well into his system, he had suffered several deep cuts and lost a fair amount of blood. Clearly the Dark One didn't relish putting him out of his misery quickly - even if he did want him dead in the long run.

With an evil chuckle, Gold at last lifted his implement of torture, laying the knife aside, the glimmer of triumph and sadistic glee on his face almost as frightening as what Killian knew was coming. "You made this almost too easy, pirate. Soon, you'll be nothing but a distasteful memory, no one will be any the wiser as to what happened, and really, would will even miss you?"

Biting back the howl of agony that rose up in his bleeding, slashed chest, Killian took in every word, though he couldn't answer, and panted harshly, fighting just to stay conscious as Gold prodded devilishly at the incision he had made. The feeling of an evil hand in his chest, rummaging with spiking fingers of pain to find and extract an actual organ was a sensation so strange and unnerving it was hard to convince himself he hadn't already drifted off in some unconscious hallucination. Shaking his head in mock sympathy, Gold's next words sent a whole different kind of fire through the trapped wolf's veins. Killian snarled uselessly, hating the villain for his words almost as much as for the torment he was inflicting. "Well, no one but poor Deputy Swan, that is. She might miss you a bit, but soon you'll just be one more in the long line of those who have left and disappointed her. A perfect state to have her in really, when we need her weakened and distancing herself from others who can help her - putting her walls back up…"

A wrenching jerk alerted Killian that the imp had at last found what he sought, the pressure on his organ blindingly intense as Gold grasped it, squeezing for good measure, doing his task the messy and old-fashioned way, as it caused Killian the most pain and fear, and though his magic could have seen his enemy long dead by then. Killian couldn't help the pitiable low whine that escaped him at the fresh agony, much as he wanted to face his end in stoic silence, determined not to show the Dark One his defeat. He was suffering maddeningly by that point, certain he was about to be snuffed from the world of the living.

Gold's self-satisfaction however, faltered when he attempted to remove the heart and crush it before Killian's eyes. Tugging in both a debilitating and nauseating fashion, the organ simply wouldn't leave his chest cavity. Gulping against the heaving sensation, Killian barely staved off the blackness to at least face his final moments head-on.

Then he heard _her_ voice - its defiant beauty ringing out like a beacon on the crisp air through the fading grey of his consciousness. "Hey! Wanna bet?!" she challenged, bursting into the clearing ready for a fight.

Gold whipped around, startled at the interruption, but only slowly standing from his crouch, a terrifyingly eerie calm about him, even caught in the act. "Actually, Miss Swan, I would take that bet. How are you going to stop me?" As if to display how untroubled he was by her interruption, he turned back to Killian, once more plunging his hand into his chest, drawing a startled and pained yelp from his captive once more.

Emma acted without thinking; sheer adrenaline, fear, and protectiveness fueling her. She couldn't let this nutjob gut the man she cared for right in front of her. Desperate to reach Killian in time, and yet knowing she physically couldn't, pure instinct caused her to fling her hands out toward Gold, open and outstretched, and unbelievably - just as had happened with Cora - a blinding bright white light filled her palms with warmth before shooting out from her and blowing Gold back from Killian.

The Dark One himself was taken aback, pushed head over heels to land sprawled and dazed on the ground several feet from his victim. Acting quickly before he regained his footing or his wits, Emma rushed to her wolf's side, one hand gently easing into the hair on his ruff, but the other still raised, warily braced for Gold to strike back.

"I might have known," Gold spat, sure enough only moments later climbing back to his feet and eyeing Emma with a narrowed, calculating expression. "Product of True Love and all… I figured as much in theory, but you showed no signs…" He seemed to be racing through the turn of events in his mind before his gaze snapped back to Emma, and Killian behind her, again. Sneering in warning, his true cowardice showed through despite his threatening words when he took a step back in retreat rather than pressing his advantage. "You may have taken me by surprised this time," he hissed as he backed further away, clearly uncertain of just how powerful Emma was and unwilling to find out how she would fare against him, "but this isn't over, _Savior_." He offered that last with a mocking tone given to Emma's title. And then, before she could even respond, he had vanished in a puff of his trademark red smoke.

Emma waited a moment, pulled tight as a bowstring, fully expecting him to return and attack unawares. Nothing of the sort happened though; she and Killian were alone now beneath the trees. A low, pleading sort of whine left the throat of the wolf before her, and as she turned anxiously to help him, and scared by the various cuts and the glistening of wet blood against his black fur, her attention was immediately fully focused on Killian.

As if he could sense the shift in her mind, the large canine lying in pain at her side attempted some sort of greeting, his tail thumping listlessly against the leaves and dirt of the forest floor. There was a sort of knowing, a human recognition in those still stunning blue eyes, Emma noticed with affection. Even in an animal face, she could see through them how glad he was to see her, and also just how much he was hurting. The whimpers, low and barely escaping through his still magically-shut muzzle were like little strikes to her heart, and Emma reached out, not sure what was proper or right, but needing to ease him however she could, running her fingers over his silky, dark head lovingly and scratching behind his pointed ears. "Oh, Killian," Emma murmured, still worried by the lethargic response. "I'm sorry, but you're going to be okay, alright?"

Again the soulful, sad-eyed look was levied at her and her stomach clenched at just how many cuts and tears there were along his hide. Knowing that her father and Graham were likely to drop everything and come running - even though what they were doing was important and pressing to do before Regina showed herself or caught them at it - Emma fumbled for her cell with shaking fingers and dialed the only other person she could think of who might know what to do.

When Ruby's voice answered on the other end of the line, Emma was so overcome with relief that she could hardly put it into words. Quickly explaining where she was and what had happened to Killian as briefly as possible, Emma hoped Ruby would know what she could do. Valiantly she tried to ignore the emotional quaver in her voice, and thankfully Ruby seemed to do the same when she responded.

"Okay, Emma, look he's going to be fine," her friend promised, keeping her voice steady and in command, strengthening Emma's own shaken nerves perfectly. "Gold's used silver against him, and that's what is making the effects so severe. He'll be able to heal, and relatively quick at that, since he's in wolf form. If you can just get him someplace safe and make sure nothing else silver gets anywhere near him, he only needs a little time until the symptoms wear off, okay?"

Emma nodded, then echoed "okay" back to Ruby sheepishly upon realizing that the other woman couldn't hear her over phone wires unless she spoke up.

"Emma!" Ruby prompted, her voice a bit sharper as she called Emma back from worried reverie. "He's going to be alright. I promise. As long as he can rest and you stay with him until his body's reserves can replenish themselves. Can you do that?"

"Of course," Emma replied in a voice she hoped sounded a lot more certain than she felt inside.

"Good, I'll let you go then. Keep me posted, alright? I'll let Graham and your parents know where you are and what's happening as well."

"Thanks, Ruby," Emma replied, hanging up as her friend bid her farewell.

Looking back down at Killian lying before her, she found it hard to believe there wasn't more she could be doing for him, but she was no veterinarian, and Ruby was a wolf herself, she would know what Killian needed better than Emma in this case. Stroking a tender finger down the furry snout lying against her knee, Emma whispered, "Hang in there, Jones. We're going to take care of you, and you'll be just fine. You trust me, right?"

In a response that could have almost made her weep for joy, his long pink tongue slipped out and gently lapped at her fingers sweetly, as if wordlessly confirming that he had understood her words and was indeed confirming his belief in her. Whatever had been holding his mouth closed unnaturally seemed to have been loosed, and he could at least move his jaw normally again. She took it for a good sign and chuckled lightly at the affectionate gesture.

"Thanks," she said wryly after the impromptu tongue bathing, even as she was already looking for some way to transport the injured wolf. She knew he had been headed to check out Gold's cabin, and from what she remembered of the structure's location, they were nearly there. It wasn't ideal certainly, considering who had put Killian into this state. But, in all honesty, one place was really just as safe as another when it came to Gold. With his power, he could appear anywhere to come after them when it suited his whims. What was more important was getting Killian into some shelter for the night so he could heal.

"Okay, buddy, here goes nothing," Emma offered, standing to remove her leather jacket and spreading it out on the ground, patting it in some mix between cajoling a pet and playfully wheedling with a reluctant friend. "Can you scoot just a little onto this jacket and maybe I can pull you like a makeshift sled?" She really wasn't sure if he understood her words, or if that impression was only in her mind, and she knew he couldn't answer her. However, she was surprised when he shook his head, almost as if saying 'no' with an indignant 'whuf' of air to accentuate the gesture.

Then slowly, painstakingly, he pulled himself to sitting and then finally standing shakily on all fours. Emma hurried to his side, wide-eyed and trying not to let the fact that she too was trembling all over show. Standing near enough for him to lean against her shins - which he did with nearly every step - they began to hobble forward out of the clearing and along the short path left to the cabin.

His size even in wolf form had Killian standing nearly even with her hip. Black as coal in coat, he was truly a breathtakingly beautiful animal, even limping with his head hung low as it was and with the tremors she could feel coursing through him.

Their progress was slow, but Emma sensed Killian needed to do this under his own power rather than lying helpless any longer. She was glad he could manage it, and found her fingers sinking into the thick fur at his neck, carding the coarse hairs for additional contact, assuring herself he was still with her, still pushing forward with each labored step She was kicking herself now for wanting to deny whatever sort of abilities she possessed; she might be able to transport them to safety or heal him instantly if she had tried to find out what she was capable of instead of denying the ability existed. Yet, if gutting this out helped Killian fight back in some way, she would lend her strength to lean on and allow them that much.

Finally, the cabin was in sight, and after barely pulling himself up the steps, Emma opened the thick wooden door and watched as Killian limped the half dozen steps to a rug by the fireplace and collapsed upon it, sides heaving horribly. Seeing a box of matches on the mantle, Emma struck one, and lit the few small logs remaining in the hearth to generate some warmth. She stroked a loving hand down his flank before rising from her crouch, to which a full body shiver ran through his form in response.

"Rest," she ordered firmly. "I'll be right back. We'll clean you up and get you feeling better."

Hurrying to the adjoining bathroom, she was delighted to find running water, which she turned on to get hot for bathing his wounds and began digging through the medicine cabinet above hoping to find some sort of antiseptic as well. Rummaging through, she was startled by a sound of something tumbling in the other room.

Running back to Killian and hoping Gold hadn't already returned to complete his attack, she was brought up short by the sight which greeted her. There by the fireplace stood Killian Jones, once more in human form, though looking more than a little rumpled and confused, and with bare skin on full display. One hand was bracing him on the mantelpiece, while the other hand had moved to clutch at a knitted blanket draped over a rocking chair nearby in an effort to preserve his modesty, but he'd frozen when she burst back into the room, just as she had.

The firelight glinted off his muscled form, making him glow like a bronzed statue, and it was all Emma could do to pull her eyes up the expanse of dark hair covered chest and strong shoulders to Killian's searching face watching hers uncertainly. Her cheeks flamed with both embarrassment and attraction in equal measure. She had to lick her lips, her mouth suddenly dry, in spite of herself, before her voice stuttered awkwardly to ask, "K-Killian? Are you alright?"

His ocean eyes swept up to meet hers, and their gazes locked on each other. The air between them practically sizzled. And then he responded, "Aye, I'll live… Thanks to you."


	9. chapter eight: come and light my eyes

_chapter eight ~ come and light my eyes_

Looking at the frilly, cream-colored curtains in the upstairs room Ruby and her Granny have given her at their B&B, Belle finally found herself able to pull in a deep, calming breath, trying to reassure herself that all will work out right in the end. The material over the partially open window fluttered in the brisk, chil air and she found herself wanting to walk over, stick her head out and breath in huge lungfuls of the fresh breeze, so long contained in the close dark of Regina's prisons, both pre-curse and during it, that now she had a moment to reflect on the change Belle could not get enough of the open sky and simple freedom.

She turned to the women with her, Ruby, whom she somehow already felt a kinship toward, as she and her brother had been the ones to finally set her free, and Snow White herself, princess turned schoolteacher, who still took a bit of getting used to - the Crown Princess of the realm wishing to be her friend was a bit stunning - but who seemed to be anxiously awaiting her opinion and to see if there were anything she could do to make Belle more comfortable.

"It's lovely," Belle offered, not sure what else to say. Anything would be an improvement on the sparse, cement abode with a mere cot to sleep on that she had spent 28 years inhabiting, and the safety of being somewhere not under either the Evil Queen or Rumplestiltskin's control was all that truly concerned her. She was mostly just grateful her friend had helped her to find lodging at all, though she had no money to pay for it or any idea what she was doing in this odd "Land Without Magic" so different from the Enchanted Forest she had known. Her fingers were already itching to find books on the history and makeup of this new realm. Her mind and curiosity, which had for so long been starved, were finally able to dig in and learn at her pleasure once more.

"Thank you, so much," she added, looking to Ruby, though the tall, leggy brunette was already waving away her gratitude with an easy grin. "You didn't have to do this for me, on top of giving me my life back. How will I ever repay you?"

"No need for that, honest!" Ruby answered quickly. "We almost never have all our rooms claimed. You can tell," she gestured to the open window, "that Granny was airing it out because it had been empty for quite a while."

Belle still shook her head, incredibly touched by the kindness and generosity of the woman who stood before her, even - to her own embarrassment - as she tried once more to explain that she'd find some way to pay them back or return the favor, she felt her eyes filling up with tears at Ruby and her Granny's caring. She couldn't be sure if it was because she'd had so little human contact at all for so many years, or if it was the gentle concern and friendship she was being offered over the brute force and callous mistreatment she had suffered, but Belle was more than a bit overwhelmed and almost beyond words.

In this case, it was the former princess Snow White who seemed to know better what to do. The pixie-haired women beside her offered an understanding half-smile, reaching over to give her a light one-armed hug. She searched Belle's eyes, as if genuinely hoping to determine if she had overstepped her bounds, and then offered sweetly, "It's a lot, believe me. We all understand. Everyone here was lost, scared, and confused when the curse first broke. We've all had a bit of time to acclimate though, and we were living every day lives in this world. You don't have any of that to fall back on. Give yourself some time. You'll get there. And you can always call on us."

Ruby nodded along enthusiastically - her agreement clearly total. "That's right. We're all in this together now. Besides, I can't even imagine how strange all this modern world must seem coming at you at once. Like Snow said, Regina's curse sort of uploaded a modern persona who was at home in this place to most of our heads. You didn't get that, so the least we can do is help where we can."

Belle felt her shoulders lower somewhat from where they had hitched up with tension, and she released a calming breath with the two other women's assurances. There was no sense in continuing to fight them; she needed the help and the basic human companionship, and they seemed eager to give it. "Well, I'm still much indebted to you," she added, but I'll gladly accept your offer. You and your Granny - and your brother too…" Here Belle paused as her cheeks flushed prettily and she glanced down at her fidgeting hands before hurrying on. "You've all been so good to me - more than I could possibly merit - and I'm grateful."

Ruby shot a knowing, sidelong look at Snow upon Belle's clear blushing at the very thought of Graham, to which the princess gave a small nod of acknowledgement and pleased smile in return. She didn't comment though, and motioned for Ruby to carry on without teasing or drawing attention to their already flustered new friend.

The female werewolf had already determined this for herself, even as her eyes twinkled and she couldn't completely hold back the toothy grin she gave herself. She was glad to see her adopted brother's good heart, bravery, and honor recognized and appreciated. More than that though, she also believed that this poor woman, held prisoner for so long by the same malicious queen who had so scarred and tormented Graham, might be good for him; might be able to understand what he was still hunted by in a way neither she nor anyone else could. Perhaps they could help each other move on.

"Don't even give it another thought!" was all she said, enthusiastically waving away any of Belle's lingering concerns.

Snow spoke up again, an idea lighting her face as it came to her pleasantly. "You know who needs to come talk to you?" she asked Belle eagerly. "Henry!"

"Henry?" Belle's curious brow crinkled, having not yet met the eager little boy. "Who is he?'

"My grandson," Snow explained, warming to her idea with growing enthusiasm. "He's Emma's little boy. It was Henry who figured out the Evil Queen's curse and brought Emma here to break it and set us all free. His storybrook might be just the thing for you to look at - it has all of our stories, and he'd be thrilled to show it to you. I took a few personal days off from school, but I'm still set to pick Henry up from there this afternoon. I could bring him by and you could meet him. Looking through those stories would help you get a sense of who's who here, and maybe even remind you of some of your own tale."

Not surprisingly, Belle looked excited by the plan as well. "That would be wonderful!" she enthused. "Are you sure he wouldn't mind?"

Snow shook her head vigorously. "Of course not. He'll love it! And I'll clear it with Emma so she knows where he is and won't worry."

With a decisive nod, Belle returned her new friend's smile. "Then it's a plan!" she affirmed.

David and Graham had followed the hidden passage all the the way to Regina's family vault in the cemetery and found nothing. Though they benefited from knowing the tunnel was there and could at least be somewhat prepared if she tried to attack them by surprise, it wasn't as though they could completely block the entrance point from someone who wielded magic. Regina could certainly apparate herself wherever she chose. Still, they at least knew a point she might choose and could be on the lookout. It might also serve as an extra exit if they needed to get out of the office in a hurry or try to do some surveillance on the Mills mother and daughter team of terror.

Despite all that, it wasn't really the helpful break in their search or the advantage on Regina they had hoped they might find. Regardless, not much else was going to come from their standing in the dark, all too close to the Evil Queen's probable lair, except for her appearing and catching them when they had no magical firepower of their own, nor even a game plan to defend themselves. Turning to head back the way they had come, both men began retracing their steps through the passageway back toward town.

Thankfully, their return walk was as uneventful as their trip out, and by the time they were once more at the sheriff station, it was time to lock up for the night. After doing so, they headed toward Granny's, knowing that was where they were likely to find their friends and family members at this late dinner hour, and both of them were more than ready to eat besides. However, as they stepped into the enclosed courtyard outside the diner, David reached out to place a hand on Graham's shoulder, asking him to stop just a second.

"What is it?" the sheriff asked, curiously looking at his realm's once-Prince with an arched brow, not sure what he might have in mind.

Charming, who was now long since more comfortable as plain David Nolan, seemed to flounder for a moment before he could speak. He held the former Huntsman's gaze steadily, but his mouth opened, then closed again silently before he could force out the words. When he finally did, the guilt and pained gratitude painted across his face was clearly recognizable. "What my wife told you earlier? About the debt we owe you? How you spared her life and then paid horribly for it? It's true. I owe you more thanks than I could ever give you as well. If not for your mercy, I would have lost my True Love forever. That's a fate I cannot comprehend. Not only that, we would never have had Emma. My daughter exists because you spared Snow's life, and then - even when Regina held your heart - you helped me to escape her dungeons to find Snow and wake her from the sleeping curse."

Graham shook his head, looking embarrassed by the praise; in fact, he seemed almost unable to meet David's earnest eyes. "I don't know about all of that. It seems that you and Snow White would always have found each other, no matter what."

The shepherd monarch shrugged good naturedly, but he still gave the other man's shoulder a lingering squeeze before he released his grip. "Be that as it may, I can't quite believe we would have managed all our close calls and reunions without even more cost, if not for your aid."

"Please, your Majesty," Graham pressed, bowing his head slightly and continuing to look more than a bit flustered and overwhelmed with the Prince's gratitude than he knew how to take in stride. "Think no more of it. What else could I do? She was innocent, and even at the risk of her own life, she still thought only of her people rather than herself. When the chance came to free you, to let you reach her in time and save her once more… well, I couldn't do otherwise. You were every bit as worthy and true as your princess; neither of you merited the terrible fate Regina had in store. Not only was I merely doing what was right, it also gave me a small moment of defiance, of acting as _myself_ against her rule, after what I feared would be unending darkness in her clutches."

David seemed to be the one who was embarrassedly uncertain of the honor bestowed on him by those words of his humble but noble former subject. He was visibly battling real emotion to press through and offer his final words on the matter; his voice intense and determined to make the man before him, who had given up so much for David's family, who had not even been able to remember his sacrifice until recently, understand. "Clearly neither of us wants to dwell on painful moments of the past, nor have someone lavish praises on us for only acting as we felt we must. Just know that I consider myself at your service, Huntsman. I recognize the price you paid, and the life I now enjoy, which would have been lost twice over without your heroism. Snow and I will always be in your corner if you have need of us."

Shaking his head in reluctant acquiescence, knowing he was not going to convince the other man to forget what he felt he owed Graham left the matter at that. In truth, he was touched that they, his monarchs, would be so appreciative and hold him in enough esteem to wish to return the favor. In some small way, it did his mending psyche at least a modicum of good to know that something worthwhile had come from his imprisonment, from the scars he had borne and still harbored within. He could see that at least it hadn't been for naught.

By then, both men were sufficiently discomfited and ended the exchange with a clasped, firm handshake before heading into the diner to reunite with the rest of the group. The reciprocal understanding and newly cemented alliance was not forgotten, but it was not something which needed continual restatement with further words.

Meanwhile in the ramshackle forest cabin where Emma and Killian had taken refuge, the evening chill had begun to retreat from the warmth of the newly started fire in the hearth, flickering light from it patterned the walls of rough-hewn log almost cozily in spite of the tense events they had weathered and the emotions pulsing vividly between them, silent but inescapable, and Emma felt, nearly stealing the breath from her lungs.

Killian's eyes sought her out, honing in on her with a focus that left her frozen in his intense azure stare, unable to move, or speak, for a second absolutely certain that this must be how he stalked and caught his prey in his wolf form. Whatever quarry he was after must find itself transfixed by that predatory gaze and not even find the will to run for its life. Blinking almost dumbly, Emma tried to shake her wits back into gear, mouth dry and opening and closing uselessly as she attempted both to escape Killian's ensnaring eyes but not completely flounder at the beauty of the rest of him on display before her in the glow of the firelight.

She lifted the quickly cooling washcloth and bottle of peroxide she clutched in each hand apologetically, not at all sure what to do with herself or the simple items she'd found to hopefully help him. Though Killian did still sport a shoulder almost completely purpled with dark bruising and a clearly gaping wound where the silver bullet had passed clear through, it _was_ already knitting itself back together and had nearly ceased bleeding. Though there was a disturbingly reddened slash down his deliciously distracting - ' _no, Emma, stop right there!'_ she chided herself internally - furred chest, where she knew Gold had practically sliced him open to get to his heart, it too was already closed, looking tender but no longer life-threatening as it had appeared when she'd burst in upon the scene in the clearing. His whole torso sported various smaller gashes and cuts, but when she thought of what had almost happened, and that possibility made her swallow down a shuddery breath of a sob, none of them were as horrible as she had frankly expected him to bear.

He did still have a thin trail of blood running down that arm to his maimed left hand, however. Finally settling on a focus where she could do some good, Emma stepped forward hesitantly, but still nearer with each pace, drawn to him despite her fear of somehow injuring him further, of getting herself so entangled that she couldn't pull away, of caring for this man so much more than she had ever intended. When she stood before him at last, her eyes did flick to his waist, taking in every bit of him as he stood there exposed and seeming more than a little frozen himself. Doggedly, she drug her eyes back to Killian's mouth curved to give her a more gently subtle version of his knowing smirk, and tried to ignore the tell tale heat of the blush spreading over her cheeks and down her neck and chest.

When she took his wrist, Killian offered her his arm, holding it out willingly at her unspoken request. Gently, she brought the cloth to his skin, cleaning gingerly at the dried blood. Though he winced a bit, Killian didn't flinch away and stood still for her ministrations, watching her with something akin to tender though stunned disbelief. Emma found herself wondering what had happened to him in the past, about the loss to match her own and then some that she could read in the depths of his blue eyes, just how long he had been alone, and if he genuinely was as unused to someone caring for him when he was hurt as he appeared to be. Her own lonely heart went out to his in that moment, understanding more clearly than ever just why she might be so drawn to his side.

When the long cut was a last cleansed to her satisfaction, Emma tossed the washcloth to the side and unscrewed the cap on the bottle of hydrogen peroxide. Biting her lip uncertainly, she glanced up in a bit of warning to say, "This might sting a bit," before pouring a healthy amount over the gash in his forearm to prevent infection.

Killian hissed in a sharp bit of air, looking at her with a surprised expression as he exclaimed, "Ah! Bloody hell, what is that?"

Emma snorted at his reaction. "It's just peroxide - and quite a waste at that, seeing how much I got on the floor and that you seem to pretty much heal yourself anyway."

Reaching for the towel she'd also brought in with her, she dabbed away at the excess moisture as Killian's frame seemed to relax once again. Before he could protest that she needn't worry herself or that it wasn't necessary, she studied the treated gash a bit longer before she slowly, deliberately leaned over his forearm still cradled in her grasp, to press her lips along the marred skin. Slowly, while her mouth still lingered tantalizingly, she looked up to meet his breathless gaze through her fluttering lashes.

Her patient's eyes widened almost comically as she did so, nearly panting as if he were suddenly as breathless as she felt. If he were in his wolf form, she almost felt his tail would have been wagging. The conjured image made her bold, willing to give him the raw truth as much as she would normally hide it away. Straightening, Emma reached to brush the fringe of dark hair that had fallen across his forehead back with delicate fingers before finally whispering hoarsely. "In all honesty though, Jones. I thought I'd lost you there for a minute." Emma didn't love how scratchily raw and agonized her voice sounded just then, didn't easily let loose this much emotion, worry and fear for someone who could so easily break her if she let him. Yet, she didn't have any choice. She couldn't withhold it from him. Killian needed to know she cared, and somewhere in the depths of her own being, Emma felt she needed to be able to care that much, to give herself to someone without having to hold back.

Killian brought his right hand up to cup her cheek warmly, looking as if there were so many things he wanted to say in response that he didn't know where to start. His strong fingers caressed along her jaw and Emma leaned her head into his touch, simply enjoying the contact for several blissful seconds. Her eyes closed and she hummed in pleasure under her breath, wanting to savor the moment, the goodness, after such fear that it had nearly been taken from her.

She had to finish though, or she might never get it said. Blinking back moisture from her eyes, Emma finally managed, "No, Killian, I mean it. I've lost enough in my life. I can't... _I can't lose you too_." Her voice wavered pitifully to her own ears, but Emma bit her lip and held the tears back, turning her face into his hand as if trying to absorb his warmth and hide within the comfort he provided.

Coaxing her back to meet his eyes, Killian offered a crooked smile, indeed touched and more than a bit overcome himself. He couldn't have even let himself hope this tough, guarded woman he'd first felt himself pulled toward would come to care that much for him, the gift of such affection was something he'd long believed would never be his again. "Oh Swan," he murmured, pressing a kiss to her forehead, "you don't have to worry about me. I'm a survivor."

She huffed out a breath at his shaky attempt at humor. Shaking her head, she opened her mouth to argue, not at all ready to joke about the close call or to picture him not surviving.

"Besides," and now his crooked smile turned a bit wicked, teasing her playfully and relieving the intensity between them, "you clearly have my back."

She cackled almost breathlessly at his humor, the charged moment breaking as he waggled his brows playfully. Smirking, she arched her own in flirtatious comeback, responding gratefully to the lightened mood. Her hands snaked around his wiry frame, tracing up his muscled back, lovingly caressing old, healed over scars and the tight contours of his heated body before slipping lower to squeeze his rump in her roaming hands. "And what a nice back it is," she winked in return.

"Is that so?" he chuckled, looking more than a bit flushed and pleased with himself as he swept in, taking his turn to pull her closer and trace her curves.

And then, as though a match had been struck, the fuel between them ignited. The heartfelt confessions gave way to assurance that let them plunge forward. Hands grasping, mouths melding, the physical caught up to the emotional as they tumbled to the floor before the fireplace, tangled together on the blanket Killian had dropped, finding exactly the type of healing they both needed.


	10. chapter nine: clear by daylight

_chapter nine ~ clear by daylight_

When the first rays of sun pierced through the minute cracks and crevices of the rough wooden walls surrounding him the next morning, Killian Jones was already blinking his eyes into wakefulness and squinting to adjust to the dawn. He had always risen early; his animal instincts honed and sharp, too alert to the world around him to remain unaware while the bustle and stir of day began. When he and Liam had gone to sea, the rhythms of life on a ship, plus their low status which gave them the worst (and earliest) chores, had cemented his natural inclination to the point that it was almost impossible for him to sleep late. The very fact that he was waking to warm, golden light spilling across the cabin floor from the sun already risen in the sky, rather than to the first pale streaks of its appearance at dawn, spoke volumes toward what had occurred between he and Emma just a few hours ago, to the peace and calm it had brought him, and just how comfortable he was with her there at his side.

Glancing down at the beautiful woman lying tucked under his arm, head pillowed on his chest, Killian simply had to marvel at the way his fate had turned around because of her. Emma huffed slightly, wrinkling her nose at some itch in her sleep and snuggling still closer. He reached out to brush stray tendrils of golden hair from her face and to plant a kiss atop her head, whether she was awake to notice it or not. Clearly she had none of the difficulty he did in sleeping deeply, as she showed no further signs of stirring and was releasing a soft wheeze of a snore with each long, languid exhale.

He would take the moment to linger happily. Continuing to idly stroke her silky hair and then up and down her soft, bare shoulder in turn, Killian wanted nothing more than to stretch the glowing moment to its very limit, and bask in the happiness he felt warming his chest. Happiness he had not been certain he would ever feel again. This woman curled in his embrace was already so precious to him, already filling so much of the aching emptiness he had harbored for so long and giving him hope. Hope he'd not felt so strongly since he was yet a pup - before the loss and pain he had been swallowed by had taken hold. Much had colored his world to a darkened grey which had shown no sign of lightening until Emma blazed into his world, brightening and broadening his horizon until he could again see more than his revenge and probable death in carrying it out. Once more he had something to live for, not merely survive.

"You cannot even fathom all that you have done for me, Love," Killian murmured into the slope of her shoulder, his voice still warm and husky with the fading vestiges of sleep. Closing his eyes briefly, preparing to make himself comfortable and enjoy every last second of this rest with her in his embrace, Killian let his mind drift back to the moment when she first appeared to him, stalking down the street toward Gold's shop with her parents trailing after less certainly but clearly unwilling to let her out of their sight. She'd appeared as if she were ready to breathe fire, her forehead creased in consternation and telling both Snow White and Prince Charming themselves that Gold owed them some answers and it was time he supplied them. He was stunned by her even then, breathing as raggedly as if he'd been struck full in the chest by the recklessly righteous whirlwind this Deputy Swan had made for as she blew by all red leather jacket, shining badge, and deliciously snug breeches caressing her every curve, just as he suddenly found his hand wishing to do. He harbored no doubt then, as he pulled further back into the shadows between buildings where he lurked, having only recently arrived on his ship with Cora and still watching and waiting, getting the lay of the land, that this Swan would have smacked him silly for such a frank and lustful reaction, but that didn't halt or abate his appreciation in the slightest. Even then, she was world-altering as he had watched her charge through the door of the pawn shop with her two noble followers in tow and disappeared from his sight.

From that moment on, he had been unable to resist looking for her, even following and learning more about her when he could get away with it. He knew now that though he'd remained undetected, Emma had sensed someone watching and been unnerved by it, which he regretted. Still, he'd been pulled along in her wake, drawn as if by a magnet, and he simply hadn't been able to resist. He could never have fathomed then that he would come to know her, have her befriend him and change his course utterly; much less that she would save his life, offer him her body, and - he believed - her tentative, fragile heart as well.

"How could I have imagined an old sea dog like meself would hold such treasure?" he breathed, still quietly awed against the downier hairs at her part near the crown of her head.

At that, Emma shuffled a bit, burrowing against his chest and digging her nose into his sternum sharply, her still-garbled sleepy voice barely intelligible and asking, "What are you mumbling about, Pirate?"

Smirking down at her, where he could see Emma had slitted one eye open, peeking out at him curiously, the bright green sparkling in the cabin's dim interior. Just as she had done mere hours before when they had come together, he trailed his able hand over her naked behind, and where she had squeezed, he gave the pert cheek a pinch before smoothing further over its rounded curve and between her shapely legs. "Now, now, Lass," he warned, melodious voice low and laden with temptation, "no teasing a man besotted with you...especially when he is in the position to make you squirm."

With those words, he let his fingers press forward, causing Emma's eyes to shoot open wide and a harsh gasp to escape her lovely lips. She wriggled against him at the delicious onslaught, making her nipples rub against his chest in a way that tormented them both, and he could do nothing other than press his advantage, both pirate and ravenous wolf surging to the fore as he slid his fingers deeper into the wet heat of her treasure and Emma practically writhed against him, bucking her hips and urging him on.

The evil grin he gave before incongruously soothing kisses across her brow quieted his love only minimally as he murmured, "See, Darling? Never cross a pirate," before deftly withdrawing his fingers to her growl of protest.

"Kilian - _ah_ \- don't!" she whined, her voice high pitched in her desperation, nails scratching through the hair on his chest as if in retaliation for his torment. When he didn't relent, she threw back her head with a moan before finally panting, "Fine, fine, you win! No more teasing," against his bicep.

Satisfied by her capitulation, and more than a bit desperate and on edge himself, Killian plunged his sure fingers back to their former task, to Emma's cries of renewed pleasure. He barely noticed until it twinged while they lay tangled together and panting afterward that she'd bitten down on his bicep in the intensity of her release. He couldn't bring himself to mind in the slightest.

Thankfully, that morning was a Saturday, and back in town Henry had no school - nor did Mary Margaret, who planned to return to her teaching post fresh with the new week. It seemed a perfect opportunity to take her grandson to meet the town's sweet new resident for brunch at Granny's and see if he and Belle would hit it off as wonderfully as she anticipated. She had checked in with Emma briefly the previous evening, just before she and Charming had turned in for the night. Both because her mother's heart needed to know that Emma was safe and well, and because it seemed only right to be certain Emma was okay with her idea to let Henry try to jog Belle's memory and help her to acclimate. As she had expected, Emma was fine with her plan - felt it was a brilliant one, in fact - and was grateful to her for watching Henry a bit longer as well. What Mary Margaret hadn't expected was the soft, relaxed tone in her grown daughter's voice. So often, Emma's voice was tense, the strain and worry of so many depending on her, demanding the time and attention of "the Savior" that as a mother she ached for the strain it placed on her child. Emma had just regained her family, only begun to discover who she truly was, and yet it always seemed there was a new calamity or foe demanding her focus instead of her being able to settle in, gain her equilibrium, and simply enjoy the fact that she no longer had to be alone.

However, Mary Margaret had heard none of that in her daughter's voice when they spoke. Instead, she realized after some reflection, Emma had sounded _happy_. Despite the danger they had been in, despite the injuries Killian had sustained, it was clear that Emma was comfortable and at peace, even for just the few brief moments they had spoken over the phone. The Enchanted Forest's former princess could only shake her head in humored disbelief at the thought of her baby girl finding love with a pirate werewolf. In a way though, she supposed it made sense; she and David might be royalty, but they were also a bandit and a humble shepherd. No matter who he was, she knew Emma's centered calm was due to him, and for that she was incredibly thankful to Killian Jones. She would tell him so, she decided with a playful twinkle in her eye and a bob of that determined chin which her daughter shared, the very next time she saw him.

With that matter firm in her mind, Mary Margaret turned from the counter where she was sat to glance over once more at Henry and Belle (who was clearly on her way to becoming Henry's new best friend as she listened wide-eyed and nodded along to every word his said, eyes wide in rapt attention for each new page he showed her) where they were ensconced in Granny's corner booth. Pleased with her morning's work, Mary Margaret raised her cup of hot chocolate to sip and greeted Granny Lucas herself when she bustled out from the kitchen, and exchanged a meaningful look with Ruby who hurried by with a load of dishes from the dwarves' early meal before heading out to the mines. (Yes, even on Saturday, they'd informed Snow once. She still chuckled and shook her head, remembering it.) Her former housemates literally headed off to work happily, axes on their shoulders and whistling 'Heigh Ho'.

Oblivious to Snow's plan, Belle and Henry were in their own little world on the other side of the diner. Belle asked the young man who knew the tales in his treasured book as well as his own history, numerous questions, and gradually - like a faucet slowly being turned on from the barest dribble to a full flow - she felt bits and pieces of memories, more and more of the experiences in her former life, returning to her. Who she was and where she had been crescendoed in her chest as it returned to her in fuller detail. The re-emergence was both exhilarating to feel more herself again, and horrifying in equal measure as she once more registered all she'd been through.

Though she struggled valiantly to keep the tears that had formed in her eyes from falling freely, Henry must still have perceptively sensed the change in her mood. She was still looking at the storybook page he had displayed before her - one which depicted Regina going to Rumple's Dark Castle and telling him that she had been killed - by her own father no less. Rumple had believed she was dead all these years, murdered because she had cared who he _could_ be, the man behind the monster, when Regina knew all along she held his love captive. Belle realized all this through a sort of stunned haze, and she knew her eyes must have appeared a bit glazed and unfocused, but she couldn't help the way this formerly unknown portion of the tale left her reeling. The destruction he had wrought once the Evil Queen departed, also in vivid detail on the pages, showed her just how affected he had been by her presence. More than she'd even realized herself. If she hadn't stormed off that day...if the Evil Queen hadn't captured her while she was returning...if things had been different...Would Rumple still be the beastly villain he was currently proving himself - or would he have been the good man she'd seen peeping through the facade all those months she'd spent as his maid, the man she knew he could be?

The timid, eleven-year-old hand that came to rest softly on her arm startled her slightly from her melancholy reverie. Henry's big brown eyes held a sympathy much too wise for his years as he offered her a hopeful smile. He had spent his entire young life coddled and catered to, yes, but also as a prop, a possession in Regina's quest for her own satisfaction. "Belle?" he asked anxiously, his voice concerned for her in a way which made the starting tears she was holding back prickle in her eyes all the more. "Are you alright? Did I say something wrong?"

She placed her own delicate hand atop Henry's, returning the soft press of his fingers with hers and offering him a tremulous but sincere smile. "I'll be fine, Henry. You needn't worry. The memories flooding back were just a bit overwhelming, that's all. You did nothing wrong."

He smiled widely, the action made even more adorable by the spot where he was missing one late baby tooth. "Are you sure?" he pressed. "I didn't mean to upset you. We can stop for now if you'd rather."

She shook her head vigorously, wrapped a thin arm around his gangly shoulders and hugged him tight. "No, let's finish this one at least," she urged, wanting to make certain he didn't feel badly or think he'd upset her. Beyond that, painful as it might be, she needed to know all which had come before and been lost in 28 years' fog - particularly where she and Rumple were concerned - if she was to be any sort of help in what was yet to come.

Henry nodded, this time appearing reassured, and bent his head back to the storybook, re-reading yet one more time. Belle was about to do the same when the jangling of the chime at the diner's entrance got her attention. Looking up to see who had arrived, she was enthralled by the near halo the afternoon sun shining through the glass made around his trim form. Already someone who signalled warmth and security to her after having rescued her from a long, waking nightmare, the sun's effect just then only intensified her impression of Graham Humbert as he stood framed in gilded light there in the entryway, looking every bit as stunned by her when their eyes met as she was by him.

Belle found herself having to steady her breathing and exhale slowly, trying to instill calm as he eventually stepped further into the room and made his way toward she and Henry's booth with an endearingly gentle smile on his scruffily bearded face. The way heat rose on her cheeks, her awareness going almost blurry and her mouth dry, was like nothing she had encountered before. Her reaction to the town's sheriff would border on alarming, it was so strong and immediate, if it weren't so pleasant as well.

Her heart threatened to beat its way right up her throat and out of her body as Graham reached she and Henry's table and he turned his beguiling smile on them even more completely. Luckily, he addressed Henry first with an affectionate chuckle, giving Belle a few more moments to compose herself, as he playfully reached out to fist bump and then manage some complex finger-flapping gesture with Henry that was clearly enthusiastic and well-practiced. "What're you up to here, Henry? Adding someone else to the Operation Cobra team?"

Henry chortled at him good naturedly, though he also rolled his eyes in an expression eerily reminiscent of Emma at his friend's perceived confusion. "Um, don't know if you've noticed, Sheriff, but Operation Cobra is pretty much complete. Curse was broken, we won, all that." He arched an eyebrow at Graham cheekily, as if daring the sheriff to contradict his statement.

"Fair enough. You have me there," the man conceded, his lilting accent making even his admitted error sound charming to Belle's listening ear as she watched man and boy interact. In fact, though she hated feeling like some silly damsel in one of her childish books, watching her heroic Huntsman playfully joke back and forth with the young man beside her, and seeing how blatantly Henry adored the man in return, made Graham Humbert even more attractive - if that were even possible.

Her thoughts were jolted back to the conversation before her however when Graham spoke to Henry once again. "Our team still exists though, doesn't it? Around here, it won't be too long before we have another mission. Miss French is a sharp one; I'll wager you've already got her up to speed. She'd be an excellent addition to our team."

His words were still directed at the boy who was now eagerly bobbing his head in agreement and beaming between the two of them in excitement, but his gaze had drifted decidedly over to her, twinkling delightedly and making her heart flutter as well. Once more when their eyes connected, it was almost as though they stuck - neither of them quite able to glance away and unsure if they even wanted to. It was as magical as any of the other fairy tales come to life running around their outrageous, unbelievable little town. Everything around faded out of focus slightly; each the only thing not a bit distant or hazy in the other's eyes.

About that time, Ruby arrived at their table with a flourish, grinning widely with a sort of devious mirth that normally made Graham squirm, sure his sister was about to embarrass him. This time though she only patted him on the shoulder reassuringly and brushed right by him to Henry. "Hey Bud! Guess what? Granny said you can come help us in the back for a bit - see how everything really gets made, even the secret ingredients of the grilled cheese. We were going to let you last week, but then you had to leave, remember? Mrs. Sprat even said you could use her favorite skillet if you come back before her shift ends - and she won't even let me touch that! Want to?"

Henry definitely did if his immediate farewell and eager request to finish their "meeting" later to Graham and Belle was any indication. They had barely offered their agreement before he was scooting out of the bench seat and taking Ruby's offered hand. The two of them scuttled away so quickly and with such gleeful conspiratorial giggles that Graham had to wonder if the whole thing was planned somehow. He also noticed Snow giving Ruby a stern look, but decided to let it slide. (Ruby, for her part, refused to feel badly. Graham was her brother, and he needed this chance to open up and heal with someone who could understand his pain. If she had to run a bit of interference for it to happen, she had no qualms about doing so.) And yet, as Belle smiled back up at him sweetly, he could see she was not part of whatever finagling behind the scenes might have been going on. Deciding to seize the moment, Graham asked if the seat across from her was taken, to which she responded only if it was taken by him, and he slid in to sit facing her, no longer even caring if they had been set up.

Shaking his head lightly at the precocious boy he came to care for long ago, even while still Regina's unwitting puppet, and at his sister's antics, he turned to face Belle French and found his insides warming delightfully for a completely different reason. She didn't speak, but her face was open and clearly welcoming, and he found that - unlike with most people - he didn't feel pressed to fill the silence. Having grown up in the wild with mainly animals for company, he had never minded quiet moments, but often others did not feel the same.

Eventually Belle did reach across the table though, her petite hand careful but resolute to take his before she whispered intently. "I'm glad you're here. I wanted to thank you again...when I was calmer and a bit more myself...for what you did. You set me free of that awful cell here in this new land. And you made sure I wasn't forgotten… you kept me sane really, in the other."

Graham returned the gentle pressure unabashedly, turning his hand in hers so their palms would press together, and entwining their fingers. He was more comfortable with touch - and least touch of his own initiation - with action and small gestures, than words. No doubt it was another byproduct of being literally raised by wolves in the woods, but it was also one thing that made he and Emma get along so well and made them such good partners. She was much the same. He sensed Belle to be so as well; one of the most clever and crafty twister of words in existence had used them to hang onto her and abuse her trust much too long for it to be otherwise.

She practically beamed at his gesture, not shying away from the touch in the slightest, and Graham found words spilling off his tongue after all, in spite of himself. "Please don't thank me," he murmured thickly. "If anything, I should ask for your forgiveness. You must wonder why I didn't free you sooner. Why I didn't help you escape in our land, as I did Prince Charming. I've been asking myself the same ever since I remembered."

However, her kind, understanding eyes took him in with no judgement at all in their depths, only sweet sympathy. "I _have not once_ thought that, do you understand? Don't take on more burdens than necessary. You couldn't have succeeded; there was no way. She had me locked in her highest tower, carefully guarded. My use as a pawn against Rumple," and at that her mouth twisted in somewhat bitter disgust, while Graham merely listened in concern, stroking his roughened thumb over her hand when it trembled slightly in his hold, "made her certain not to let me slip from her grasp. If you had tried anything more than you did, both of us would only have been hurt worse."

He shook his head though, one hand breaking free of where they had been clasping each other's across the table, despite whomever else might enter and see them, or the shyness they might have usually felt and allowed to hold them back, to tug at his already disheveled hair in frustrated distress. "You can't know that for certain. I could have tried!" he insisted, clearly tormented by the idea that he might have allowed her suffering to continue longer than necessary.

Belle reached her now freed hand back to take his once again, alarmed by the intensity of his guilt and upset over it, and needing to help him as he had once helped her. "Hey, hey…" she crooned soothingly, wrapping her hand back around his and pulling it close to her chest. "It's alright. You did all you could...took more risk trying to help me than anyone else has since my mother when I was a girl. I can't even pretend to know what you went through with her…" Her deep, guileless eyes sought his with nothing but genuine acceptance, aching to offer only comfort, "but I know you weren't in control. You did what you had to, in order to survive...and…" She swallowed hard there, looking down to their joined hands instead of maintaining his gaze, "...you helped me survive too."

A soft huff of air left him at that last admission, the tension falling from Graham's shoulders as he leaned forward to momentarily cradle her cheek in his palm before tilting her face back up to his and then silently wiping the lone tear that had escaped her from her cheek. The look he gave her then was every bit as tender as that fragile touch, before he murmured hoarsely in a voice raw with emotion, "Well, then thank goodness I managed at least that much."

Snuggled together in the secluded cabin in the woods, far from town and removed from the churning chaos of their clatch of heroes and villains, Emma and Killian had lingered, sharing with each other things they had kept and carried all alone for far too long, reluctant to return to everyone else and the riot of pressures and needs that continually interrupted. Though they had sought a momentary shelter in dire need, it had become a quiet haven neither wanted to leave.

As the day slipped away and Emma ran her fingers through the thicket of dark hair on his chest, a rumble of pleasure emanating from his throat at the stroking warmth of her digits and the delicious friction of her nails, Killian learned how she had come to lose and find Henry again, about all the foster homes and the almost-families who'd given her back, and how alone she had felt erecting skyhigh walls to convince herself it didn't matter. In turn, Killian had dried the few inevitable tears that had slipped unbidden from her proud jade eyes and bared his own scars. In a voice roughened by the emotion of the tale, he told her of two brothers whose mother had died when the younger could barely remember her - all that was left him an impression of kind blue eyes to match his own, a tinkling laugh, a singing, melodious voice as cool fingers brushed through his hair, and the ability to shed his human skin for a swifter, stronger form when the moon was full. As the story poured from him, one of the first times ever loosed, he found he couldn't stop. He told her how their father abandoned the brothers to the streets, how the elder had worked his fingers raw to keep them both from starving, and how the younger had idolized his Liam, following in his footsteps right into the Royal Navy up until the day that beloved older brother had taken his last breath, betrayed by the crown he had served so proudly and consigned to a watery grave. Before he knew it, Killian had even told Emma the long, sordid story of his love and loss of Milah, his ancient grudge with Rumplestiltskin, and the maiming of his hand. She held him close through it all; eventually sitting up with his head cradled in her lap as silent tears he wasn't sure he had ever allowed himself to cry trailed down his face.

Some time later, when both their tears had dried and their stories were told, each was infinitely relieved the other was still beside them, not running scared, and each was slowly gaining strength from the other's stalwart presence; suddenly aware that there was another who shared the burden and wasn't going to leave. More than that, Emma would have still been still freaked out by a second occurence of her magic, bursting from her as if at an impulse beyond her control, except that when she voiced her fears to Killian he laid them to rest so adeptly she couldn't even argue. It steadied her more than anything she could have told herself when he looked her full in the face and swore to her honestly that though he had not seen much good magic in his long life, he knew that hers was, and he believed in her.

When Killian shifted that night, Emma was right there to see it happen, still marveling at the sleek black fur, the large, powerful form, and the yet familiar blue eyes he retained. It seemed clear just then that she would know those eyes anywhere and in whatever form he took.

Giggling slightly at the imposing canine who lazed next to her, tongue lolling and somehow still bearing an expression much like Killian's, Emma reached out her hand to pet his soft fur, and he nuzzled her hand with his cold, wet nose affectionately, tail thumping against the covers happily. Scratching behind his ears in return, Emma lay down to rest and he curled up at her side. She struggled not to feel guilty at leaving it all behind - Henry, her parents, the town - but this time was needed too, even if they had essentially been in bed all day. She had let down walls for Killian that she hadn't been sure she was still capable of releasing, and he had clearly needed this purging and closure too, as it would seem that perhaps some of his wounds had never been grieved.

The next time she opened her eyes - in the wee hours of the morning, everything still glowing with a wash of blue moonlight in the pre-dawn darkness - Emma let her eyes slide over Killian's once more human, bare and sculpted, body, gleaming in a pale halo over his skin. She had to press her lips together to avoid exclamation at the sight before her. Looking at him that way, as still, silent, and beautiful as a work of art, she simply had to reach out and touch him. There was no way to take it back.

Soon enough she was running hungry hands over the planes of his broad shoulders, down his arms and over his stomach, which shivered and rippled in response. Her fingers trailed lower, marveling at the fact that he appeared hale and whole once more, the marks of the previous night's damage having knitted and healed to join older scars like a quilted canvas of honor. Far from appearing unsightly, it sent a further quiver of desire through Emma's core, making her clench and want at the clear display of masculine strength, dominance, and willingness to fight - even to the death if need be - for those he loved, the things that mattered.

Finally peeling open the glittering cyan pools of his eyes to peer at her stealthily, Killian grinned when he caught her wandering hands in his own, trapping them by her head as he rolled over to cover her body with his, licking his lips with a wanton hunger he intoned, "What's the matter, Love? Didn't get enough of me yet?"

Emma's pulse pounded in her ears at the abrupt reversal, breath heaving from her lungs in a way that left her without enough air to reply. She shook her head, eyes wide and gazing into his fathomless stare; unable to deny just how desperate she was for more.

"Well then," he murmured, peppering quick little bites along her collarbone toward her ear, where he nipped the lobe and drew yet another shameless gasp from her, "far be it from me to leave you _unsatisfied_ ," he finished with a ravenous growl, and thrusting forward he made good on his promise.


	11. ch ten: plots and plans and tangled webs

_chapter ten ~ plots and plans and tangled webs_

Unfortunately, as the dawning hours lightened the sky and morning fully broke in the woods outside of Storybrooke, the sun rose to warm the secluded retreat Emma and Killian had found and allowed themselves a moment to indulge within. It had been a fragment of time - a snapshot that Emma hoped to store away in her mind's eye against the darkness that might well stretch ahead of them - that made her feel bonded to the man who stretched and sat up to rifle through the tangled covers, seeking one large enough to wrap around himself and maintain his dignity until they could sneak back to his ship for new clothes not destroyed by forced transformation.

Emma couldn't help reaching out to pinch playfully at the warm skin of his hip, even as she lingered reluctantly within sheets wrapped around her own form. She had to bite her bottom lip to forestall the attraction rising within her at the sight he made, even draped ridiculously in some old, unraveling brown blanket. There was barely an ounce of fat on his sculpted, darkly furred body, barely enough skin loose for her to grab, but she managed, and then squealed and rolled away when his eyes flashed and he dove after her for retaliation.

A low growl rumbled through his chest and thrummed against her palms and fingers as she braced her hands on his chest. Though he rolled her onto her back, covering her with his muscled body and kissing her thoroughly - nearly devouring her mouth like the animal he was - Killian didn't push further, as if silently knowing and acknowledging that it was time for them to return to the rest of the world. Her heart swelled just that much more with affection for him that he didn't question her, try to guilt or persuade her otherwise, but though he clearly felt the fires of attraction building between them once more, he also seemed to understand the need to check on her boy, see that he and her parents were alright, and to see that she had not left any of her responsibilities too long. That he would accept and honor her needs, without her even having to explain had Emma staring at him in awed amazement as he lingered above her.

Reaching up, she smoothed her hands over his scruffy cheeks, cradling his widely grinning face between her palms until he leaned down quickly to peck a kiss to her nose and roll off her and away, chuckling at her moan of frustration just as she'd been ready to pull him in and deepen the kiss, her resolve to get them moving almost forgotten in the magnetic pull he held over her.

Her own tiny (and much more human) growl of frustrated lust at the sheer playful humor on his face did not seem to faze him in the slightest. "Come, Love, rise and shine," he urged with entirely too much cheer for the hour. The rugged, handsome man whom she had first taken for dark, brooding, and perhaps even a bit dangerous, now looked almost boyish as he winked at her from across the room, tossing first her jeans, then her socks and bra from where they'd strewn them over the floor the previous night, then once more wrapped the blanket almost toga-like around as much of himself as possible. "After all, I know it can't be helped, but I'd prefer to get across town and aboard my ship before too many are out to see me like this."

He gestured down at himself in the ridiculous get-up. It was the best they had at hand to preserve some bit of his modesty, but she had to giggle at his rather sad attire all the same, simply couldn't help herself. "It is perfectly laughable," she added, unable to resist teasing. "Not exactly befitting a pirate captain or a fearsome lone wolf either one."

She had shimmied into her own jeans as she spoke, listening to him splutter indignantly at her jab as she pulled on her socks and reached around herself trying to refasten the strap of her undergarment. Somewhere in the midst of her actions, Killian had stilled, watching her with his mouth almost agape until he finally gathered himself, waggled those heavy, dark brows salaciously, and asked, while swiping his tongue over his lower lip for effect, "Need some help there, Swan?"

It was at that point she finally managed to clasp the bra together once more and stood, slipping her sweater down over her head as she did so. "Yeah, right," she snarked. "I don't think so. We start that again, and we won't get where we're going 'til noon."

"More's the pity, Deputy," he murmured lowly, eyes tracking her every move hungrily. Emma for her part, was just noticing the size and darkness of the love bite he had left at the juncture of her neck and shoulder and wondering ruefully as she pulled at the collar of her top if it rose high enough to hide the mark from her curious and eagle-eyed son. "Really?" she huffed in exasperation at him with her hands on her hips.

"Sorry?" he offered, not looking one ounce repentant as he studied her, gaze more than a bit possessively proud of his handiwork. She couldn't even be that angry with him. She'd thought him nearly dead already when she burst into the clearing to find Gold standing over him, a silver bullet in him and more cuts of the deadly metal littering his body, paralyzed and about to have his heart stolen. That she had somehow stopped their powerfully magical nemesis, that he was healed and well again, and that they had forged this trust, this bond, between them - one she'd not been sure she was capable of forming with anyone - well, it was enough to make her forgive him his overzealous behavior. Truth be told, she felt more than a bit possessive of him herself.

Shaking her head she slipped into her boots and led the way out the door. "Come on, you ruffian, let's get you some clothes."

He laughed right along with her, but upon reaching the door, he opened it for her and caught her gaze with a much more serious one of his own. "Be that as it may, Emma," he whispered, brushing the back of his forefinger down her cheek, light as the flutter of a butterfly wing. "You had just one thing wrong before."

"Oh yeah?" she asked breathlessly. "What's that?"

"I'm not a lone wolf," he vowed, earnest devotion in his eyes and tone absolute, "not anymore."

As it turned out, they did make it to Killian's ship without too much interference or embarrassment. They did run into a wide-eyed Leroy on the pier with his early morning fishing catch, but an only half-teasing threat to gut him like the fish he had in hand had the town's unofficial crier scuttling off at a pace hasty enough to make Emma pretty sure it was one rumor that the dwarf wasn't going to spread.

Before long, Killian was clothed, with only a minimum of kissing and touching in between, and they were off toward Main Street and her parents' apartment. Emma found that the closer they got, the more she began to pull ahead, anxious to see Henry and have him meet Killian. She was so excited that it took her several minutes to realize that Killian was falling behind and almost slowing down.

"What is it, Babe?" she asked, turning to look at him curiously, the endearment slipping out without thought, then blushing until she saw by the lightening of his face that he didn't mind a bit.

"Nothing," he hedged quickly, "I mean, not really...nothing serious. It's just - are you sure you want me to come? Want me around your boy? Will your parents even allow me in their home? Things have been moving pretty quickly so far, there hasn't been time to speak of it… but they're royalty, and I'm...well...I'm hardly prince material," he finished ashamedly.

Emma was already opening her mouth to argue when a loud "pop" sounded just behind her, whipping her attention back in that direction as Mr. Gold appeared before them, but not as she had ever seen him before - full out covered in a glittering sheen not unlike scales over his skin, his hide appearing almost as disturbingly leathery as his strange garb clearly not from modern day Maine, and nothing like the suits he'd worn in his guise as mild mannered pawn shop owner. "I'd listen to him, Dearie," the freakish apparition of a man cackled at her almost giddily, "Keep company with such as him, and you'll wind up getting hurt."

Emma didn't know what she'd done to send the man sprawling in the forest any more than she did what she was doing still, but she squared her shoulders and faced the Dark One, bared in his true guise, head on. Never one to back down from a fight, she was even more determined not to see Killian harmed any further, never mind that she had no doubt he could more than defend himself in a fair fight instead of an ambush. Her hands raised in defense, she didn't back away, merely watched the imp as he glowered at her smugly, not trusting him to drop her guard for even a second.

She could feel Killian at her back, a sturdy, comforting presence and his warmth steadying the quivering fear in her stomach that she couldn't dismiss as easily as she schooled her facial features. His large hand pressed at the small of her back was a calming weight, grounding and reassuring her that he was there at her side as clearly as if he had spoken those very words aloud.

Drawing in a fortifying breath Emma savored the feeling of a true partner facing their foe with her, and breathed out in a voice that sounded surprisingly unafraid. "Thanks for your concern," she shot back, letting him know she was well aware of just how false his solicitude was, "but I think I'm capable of choosing my own company."

"Suit yourself," Rumplestiltskin shrugged, sounding worrying unperturbed either way. "I merely thought to offer you an out... Some assurances, if you will…" He paused a moment, as if thinking she might suddenly change her mind. "No matter," he continued, one of those high-pitched, grating giggles leaving him when she didn't jump at his proffered deal. "I'll admit you took me by surprise, Miss Swan. Raw and untrained as it is, your light magic is staggering. However, if I can't entice you to my side, make no mistake, I will be ready for you next time. Don't expect to get so fortunate a second time." His gaze then flicked to Killian just next to her. "And you… Your time is coming at long last, cur. You'll get your retribution - not here, not right now, but soon. You will lose everything you've gained, mark my words."

And with that dark threat and a dramatic flip of his wrist, he was gone as instantaneously as he had appeared. Emma deflated with a whoosh of breath, and fell back against Killian's chest where he easily caught and cradled her tightly.

"You were brilliant, Love," Killian whispered against her temple fervently, making her shiver in both relief and pleasure. "Bloody amazing. He isn't sure he can beat you, doesn't understand your power, and so he's holding back, as cowardly as he always was."

She nodded at her companion's words, sure he was quite probably right and trying to draw some assurance from that. But she knew the stalemate would not last forever; Rumplestiltskin would come for them, Cora and Regina with him most likely, in their quest to wrest Henry from her, and she had just begun to ask Killian what happened then, when pounding footsteps reached her ears and she saw her father, mother, and son nearing them at a run, clearly alarmed and having seen the face off with the Dark One. The worry and fear already radiating from them had Emma tabling the discussion she needed to have with Killian for later. In the next instant, Henry plowed into her, nearly knocking her backward and arms flinging around her waist. Her mom wasn't far behind, simply wrapping both her daughter and grandson within her shaking arms.

"Emma!" she exclaimed breathlessly, "Are you alright?!"

Emma nodded against her mother's shoulder, a bit squished between she and Henry's intense ministrations, but still managing to rub her boy's back in what she hoped was a soothing pattern, even as she allowed herself to be comforted by the sort of maternal support she'd wished for countless times growing up but never had until now.

Finally, when Snow backed off slightly and released her, and Henry relaxed a bit as well, Emma drew in enough breath to answer steadily, "Yes, we're fine, I think," before David sandwiched her in his strong arms, having clearly tried to wait his turn, but no longer able to hold back.

His large hand cradled the back of her head securely as he rocked them slightly from side to side. "Thank heaven above," he murmured thickly before finally making himself let go and take a step back. "We were heading to meet you and saw Rumple appear right in front of you both. I was so afraid he'd strike you down before we could reach you."

Emma shook her head at that, looking to Killian briefly, who gave her a gentle, bolstering nod in return. She ignored the fact that her father's large hand was trembling slightly where it squeezed hers, not quite ready to process that he cared for her that much, that he had been shaken to his very bones in fear for her safety. "He didn't _do_ anything," she assured, trying to project a calm she didn't quite feel yet in the hopes of spreading it to her rattled loved ones. "Just a lot of useless posturing and empty threats. Trying to keep us scared, no doubt."

Her father opened his mouth to caution or argue her seeming unconcern with his experience in dealing with the Dark One, but Killian beat him to the punch, voice still smooth and lilting but wary when he spoke, resting his hand on her forearm as he did so. "I wouldn't be so certain about that, Swan. Unfortunately, though it might seem like nothing now, the Crocodile rarely makes empty threats. His taunting was clearly a prelude to some move on his part."

David nodded his solemn assent to the other man's statement, the closeness of Killian's body to his daughter's, nor the supportive physical contact she was allowing him, not going unnoticed but being put aside for the larger issues at hand.

"Great!" she exhaled in frustration, throwing her arms up and letting them fall back against her sides. "So what are we supposed to do? How are we supposed to be ready for it?" She looked from her "wolf man" (secretly loving the little nickname that popped into her head even as she bit back her smile and tried to retain focus) to her parents and back in quick succession. "Has anyone seen Regina or her mother yet? Could we get any clues from what they're up to?"

Her mother shook her head remorsefully, knowing that her answer was far from what Emma was hoping to hear. "I'm afraid we haven't, Sweetie. They're still lying low, which I know is not helpful at all, but at least no more damage has been done." Her dark-eyed gaze flew to Killian quickly and a small smile dimpled her full, pretty cheeks so much like her daughter's. "Glad to see that you've recovered nicely," she added to the man who had clearly captured her daughter's affection.

The sentiment did Killian's heart good, despite whatever other doubts and concerns might have been swirling inside his chest and all around them. It certainly was not full parental approval of their lost princess daughter dating a lycanthropic pirate, but the glimmer in the royal's eyes reminded Killian that, if memory served, Snow White had at one time survived as a bandit and graced 'Wanted' posters as much as any pirate. Perhaps he had more of a chance to win them over than he had first assumed.

"Aye, milady," he replied to Snow with a small bob of his head, "Thanks to your daughter."

Snow looked at him sweetly, her face practically beaming, and he wondered if there were not something else she yet wished to say; however, before he could question further, or anyone else could speak, Henry broke in hopefully. "I don't want to think my other mom would still be plotting to hurt you all, but ...I ...I know she might. Maybe we could try to check in at the library? Belle was anxious to learn all she could about everything and everyone she'd known back in your world, and I know she really wanted to understand what Mr. Gold was after. She might have turned up something about what they want. If she hasn't, well, maybe we can?"

His last words rose questioningly, and Emma, who had already hugged him closer at his troubled admission that he hated to consider the woman who had raised him as a villain, now pulled back just enough to look down at him encouragingly and grant his request. "That sounds like as good a plan to start with as any, Kid," she said, her affection for her son clear even in the understated tone of her voice. "Plus, I probably ought to check in with Graham, and I wonder if we might not find him there too."

With those words, she shot a conspiratorial wink at the other adults, but Henry giggled right along with her as they set off for the clock tower which housed the town library beneath. When they all looked to him in surprise, Henry shrugged. "What?" he countered, "I'm _eleven_ , not blind! Sheriff Graham's been really looking out for her. I think he likes her."

The wide, mischievous grin on Henry's face made Emma laugh heartily as she ruffled his hair and followed his scampering steps with a bit more spring in her own. Yes, there was still danger afoot, and they needed to figure out their three villains' game before they could spring a trap, but she suddenly felt more hopeful about the whole thing. Henry would tell her that in every story, no matter the odds, good always won out in the end. All she said aloud was, "You know, Henry, I think you're probably right," and followed him on through the square. For once, with her family and a man she rapidly felt she was growing to love on either side, she was willing to summon some belief and hope.

Even as Emma and her posse were making their way across town, Graham and Belle were indeed ensconced at a large, heavy oak table in the quiet back corner of the library. At their research since dawn when the Sheriff had met his petite brunette friend with two to-go cups - his coffee and hers hot tea - and two chocolate croissants from Granny's in hand at the front door to the library as she arrived to unlock it for the day, they had been huddled in the reference section undisturbed for several hours, surrounded by census charts, town records, fairy tale and folklore compendiums, anything that might either help Belle, or Graham (he realized his own hope rather ruefully) to remember any clue or rumor that either of them might have seen or heard in all their forced time in the Evil Queen's fortress or Rumple's Dark Castle. Knowing Rumple had always been a bit of a collector of magical totems and powerful objects, Belle had also been compiling a list of any such treasures mentioned in the resources, wondering if an item such as that might be what either Rumple or these two of his most dangerous proteges might hope to obtain.

Though neither of them had turned up anything definitively helpful yet, they were still up to their elbows in old books, piled all around them on the table and even in various stacks at their feet beside it. Belle couldn't help but feel safe and shielded somehow by the sheer mass of volumes surrounding her, remembering with a shudder the bare walls, empty room with merely a cot and thin blanket that she had spent 28 years inhabiting in some sort of mindless haze, and the unknown stretch of time she'd spent wasting away in the lonely tower of the Evil Queen's design with maybe one book hidden away when the man now studiously reading at her side could manage it. The fact that she could be surrounded by shelves and shelves of them to read to her heart's content seemed like nearly unfathomable wealth after such a long deprivation.

Of course, she reasoned with another lingering sidelong glance at the man beside her, Graham Humbert might also have more than a little to do with the pervading sense of safety she felt. Granted, he did not practice magic, nor was he indestructible or infallible, but she felt protected, sheltered and cared for in his presence, in a way she had not truly experienced since she was a very small child.

All of a sudden overcome with a swell of gratitude and affection for her long lost friend, Belle reached across the table, winding her slender arm through the perilously stacked tomes to take his hand in hers from where it had rested on the page before him. Graham looked up, mouth slightly agape in surprise, his head tilting curiously as his eyes cleared from the concentrated focus they'd held while he read. "What is it, Belle?" he asked, even as he gathered her hand more securely in his own, linking their fingers and squeezing with a light, reassuring pressure, before bringing their joined hands up to his mouth, pressing a chaste kiss to the back of hers almost bashfully, not meeting her eyes as he did so, but instead focusing on their fingers twined together.

Belle's breath caught at the gesture, innocent and sweet, and yet bold between the two of them, speaking of more than polite concern for one of his townsfolk or friendly remembrance of their former acquaintance. It did steal the air from her lungs for a moment; a simple, bare gesture, and yet she couldn't remember ever being so affected by a touch before, the press of his soft lips feeling as though it were imprinted on her delicate skin.

Trying to suck in enough oxygen to speak, she blinked several times before managing to stutter, "N-nothing's wrong. I just...just wanted to say I'm glad you're here with me. It makes...all of this...easier somehow."

She stopped there, not sure how to continue as her feelings seemed to escape expression in words. Regardless, Graham beamed at her beautifically, his eyes widening in a guilelessly joyful way that made the years of curse and entrapment seem to melt from his features and cause him to bear an impossibly youthful glow. "You don't know what that means to me," he breathed, voice little more than a pleased whisper in the quiet library nook. "And for the first time in ages, I can actually _feel_ it. It's exactly the same for me… being near you."

On the verge of scooting closer and placing her other hand over his heart, both to assure herself that it was beating as hard as hers was, and to assert that they would both feel so much more from now on if she had anything to say about it, Belle was halted when a swirling pillar of purple smoke appeared in the room over Graham's shoulder. She lurched backwards, immediately on her guard, and her sudden movement and wide-eyed wariness alerted Graham to turn and face it as well, just as Cora and Regina both stepped from the cloud of magic dramatically. Clearly having already taken stock of the situation, frighteningly matching cruel smiles stretched across both women's faces.

The elder Mills sorceress stalked forward with the air of a noblewoman looking as if she owned the room, completely unconcerned with their definite lack of welcome. Graham shifted with quick agility to stand between the cold blooded woman and Belle, causing his friends to feel her heart swell with his selflessness even as she huffed in exasperation. She didn't want him hurt any more than she wanted to suffer herself.

Tsking and shaking her head at their naive show of resistance to her assumed superiority and powerful magic, the Queen of Hearts looked almost amused by the gesture. Speaking for the first time with false demurity, she noted, "You're both fortunate I'm not Rumplestiltskin after that little scene I just witnessed." Her sharp gaze zeroed in on Graham. "If I had been him, you would already be dead where you stand."

Reaching out a gloved hand, she brushed it down his whiskered cheek, trailing along his jaw and neck down to his chest with entirely too much familiarity. Though Graham didn't back away or cry out, Belle could feel how stiff his body had gone in an effort not to shrink or show fear. His hand still in hers was trembling, and Belle's stomach turned in nausea at the woman's gall, and the very thought of him enduring even one more unwanted touch in an effort to protect her.

Darting around him, she drew up every bit of height and presence she could muster, forcing the older woman back at least a step. "Leave him alone!" she spat, eyes flashing in a way most who only knew her gentler nature would have found hard to imagine. "You and your despicable daughter have hurt him enough!"

Cora actually tittered in dangerous humor at her outburst, raising a deceptively elegant hand for some no doubt paralyzing strike, when Regina's dry voice froze them all as she stepped forward to stand at her mother's side. "Enough, Mother," she demanded. "You know what we seek. The bookworm may know where he keeps it. You're the one who taught me to keep my eyes on the goal, remember?"

Though Cora did not look pleased, she did withdraw; her desire to reconcile and please her grown child obviously overriding her sadistic nature for the moment.

Not backing down in the slightest, nor willing to be cowed by this woman who had caused so much suffering in both she and Graham's lives, no matter how foolhardy it might be, Belle turned her harsh words on Regina. "And if you think I'll do anything to help _you_ , you're into for a rude awakening."

Regina practically simpered at her, not discouraged in the slightest. Graham pulled her back against his chest, as if remembering what the woman before them was capable of and urging Belle away from the flames before she was consumed. Shaking her head in disappointment, as if they were the ones in the wrong, Regina merely warned, "Oh no, Dear, I don't think so. We're just getting started."


	12. ch eleven: the price one pays for magic

_chapter eleven ~ the price one pays for magic_

Though she could feel her joints quaking in true apprehension, making her knees feel almost liquid with the fear pumping through her system, Belle French continued to stand her ground, pulled up to her full, if rather small, height and staring the Evil Queen, in her polished mayoral guise, down with a fierce glare all her own. This woman had jailed her, held her prisoner for years on end for the mere possibility she might prove useful against Rumple at some point in the future. Never mind the fact that as it turned out, Rumple was more concerned with is own devious plans and desires than he had ever been for her well-being, the issue remained that she had been treated as a _thing_ , an _object_ , and a means to an end for far too long...and she wouldn't stand for it anymore. Nor could she bear to see her sheriff, the both strong but also exceedingly kind and gentle man who had freed her from her prison and taken her under his care, hurt anymore by this evil woman.

"We aren't starting anything at all," Belle insisted, trying hard not to dwell on the fact that the last two decades of both she and Graham's lives were a testament to the fact that she only had so much control over the situation, whatever she might hope or intend. Mentally shaking that foreboding away, she tried to inject a steely resolve into her spine, hoping that refusing to bow down, to bend to the two women's whims, would somehow manifest itself into the strength to see her through.

Regina pulled back in surprise, merely a couple inches, but Belle took heart at the woman's nonplussed reaction all the same.

Graham, however, seemed only more alarmed. "Belle, please stop this. Don't antagonize her," he urged quietly, an intense plea in the rough, low timbre of his voice that made her painfully aware just how well he must know the pain resistance brought when it was crushed in failure. His noble soul, the kindness and the regard for others that somehow remained despite the mistreatment and abuse to which he had been subjected, staggered her. Even now, she knew he was trying to pull her back, not out of cowardice or self-interest, but because he knew what she faced for challenging Regina or standing in her way. "We can't fight her - not to mention her mother - without magic. We have to stay on their good side until we can get away."

Though he had been speaking so softly Belle had barely made out his words at her ear, so close in fact that his whiskered cheeks brushed a pleasant tickle at her neck, one that at any other time she would have loved to take a moment to savor and experience fully, the thrill of the unfamiliar sensation giving her goosebumps of anticipation. Though his voice had been almost impossibly quiet and Regina had pulled back slightly as if formulating how she wanted to proceed after encountering such staunch refusal, the Queen's eyes narrowed with a dangerous glimmer, clearly somehow having caught his words.

"Perhaps you should heed his warning, Miss French," Regina purred silkily, stalking forward again slowly and circling Huntsman and maid as if looking for the weakest point to strike. The elder Mills woman merely stood back, watching her daughter work as if proud of the command and fear she could instill where any decent parent would have been appalled. "You have just re-entered the world outside your cell, found a place to belong, regained your wits and your memories. It would be a shame to have it all locked away again, with no chance of a second daring rescue."

The dark-haired sorceress shot an equally dark, warning look at Graham for a moment, breaking the stare she had leveled at Belle. "Things don't have to become unpleasant here...unless you force my hand. But I'm sure your loyal Huntsman," and here the wrongful regent's gaze flicked between her two former victims as they stood up against her, the knowing and self-satisfaction in her expression making Belle feel soiled in spite of the fact that she had no reason to, "much more loyal to you than I could ever coerce him to be to me, I must admit," she continued suggestively, making bile rise in Belle's throat and causing Graham to stiffen more tensely yet at her side. "Despite how his loyalty may be bought or swayed," Regina concluded, "I know he can attest to the _forcefulness_ I can employ when necessary. It's not something a sweet innocent like you wants to test, no matter how persuasive it has proved."

Belle clenched her teeth tight enough together to keep from yelling her condemnation for the other woman's vile assaults on both Graham and herself in one way or another, though it was a near thing and she couldn't be absolutely sure she hadn't chipped at least one tooth in the process. Much as she hated it, Graham was right. They couldn't afford to push two dangerous villains far enough that they would exact some sort of irredeemable penance.

She could feel Graham's trembling fingers reaching for her hand at her side and twining their together once more. Even shaky with his own fear and anger, they gave her further strength; she was no longer locked away, forgotten, and alone. He may have been trying to caution her, to keep her from foolishly flying at a foe who could curse or kill her with the flick of a single, well-manicured finger, but Belle found it steadied and bolstered her to feel the press of his palm warm against her own all the same. She could play the longer, smarter game for the moment, at least until they knew how to resist successfully.

Steadying her voice with a Herculean effort, she arched a brow at Regina in a concerted bid for calm. "I haven't the slightest idea what it is you want from me, your Majesty, even if I were inclined to help you at all."

Graham's hand gave hers an encouraging squeeze, clearly picking up on the fact that she had gotten his message.

Unfortunately, it wasn't Regina who spoke up then, but Cora, who had until that moment hung back, observing and biding her time. "I don't believe that for a second," she stated baldly, eyeing Belle up and down and giving her the distinct impression that she could somehow read her thoughts and see through her, right down to the bone. "If there is anyone in the world beyond his long lost son whom Rumplestiltskin cares for, it's her. He must have mentioned it, slipped up and revealed where it could be found. Perhaps she even holds it her possession. Don't let her fool you, Regina darling."

Belle shook her head, having no idea at all what the two of them might be talking about, what secret item of Rumple's the two assumed she held the key to, but she was no more impressed or cowed by the Queen of Hearts than she was by the Evil Queen herself. "Not only do you not know me, 'your Majesty'," Belle shot back bravely, giving the honorific title a scalding, sarcastic inflection, "but you must not know Rumplestiltskin as well as you think either. If there truly were some magical object which could be his undoing, he most certainly wouldn't tell me about it...nor anyone else. He wouldn't trust a soul with that sort of secret. Plus, in case you've forgotten, up until a couple of days ago, I was locked in your dungeon. How would I now know all of his secrets?"

The older woman, her regally purple cloak swishing over the floor of the otherwise silent library and her high, flawlessly coiffed hair, made her all the more intimidating somehow as she came to stand just before the smaller, younger woman, looking down her nose at Belle's determined face. "You do know that those who cross me often learn my particular method of persuasion firsthand, do you not?" she murmured silkily, the threat all the more chilling for its polite veneer.

Her properly gloved hand rose to hover between herself and her prey, and, as repetitive and expectedly overdramatic as it would be, Graham looking on knew without doubt what was about to happen, even before the villainess made her move. Regina might have learned how to wield dark magic from the Dark One and have conspired with him to cast his dark curse, but her methods and her cold-hearted dispassionate focus came straight from her mother's traumatizing example and her strict resolve to triumph at all cost. Seeing the formidable woman behind the horrifying rumors of Wonderland in the flesh, he could no longer question how Regina had come by her preferred method of physical coercion and torture that he had suffered firsthand.

Before Cora could actually make contact with Belle's chest, Graham pushed her aside with a yell of "No, don't!" escaping him as he darted in front of her. He did not wish to hurt her or manhandle the woman he had come to treasure and felt the need to protect, but a panicked sense of urgency took over. Both despicable queens halted; Cora aiming to bypass him, simply step around his momentary blockade and go after Belle again, while Regina smirked with a sick sort of pleasure as she drew near his side.

"What's the matter, Sheriff?" she purred, her lips painted a deep wine red that looked almost predatory on her hungry smile, ready to devour. "Could it be you miss the definitive guidance you once had?" She practically cooed the words in his ear, freezing Graham within himself, a protective retreat his mind and body had employed out of necessity all the time he'd spent in her clutches. So much so that he barely flinched, almost seeming deaf to her words when she added rapaciously "Would you like to offer your heart up again for another innocent?"

A few feet away, where his last ditch attempt at rescue had put her, Belle was struggling to right herself when she heard Regina's threat. Looking up, her eyes found Regina's long, red nail taloned hand hovering over her protector's chest cavity as her mother's had been inching toward Belle's minutes before. She was just floundering forward, desperate to reach them, not sure what she could do against their powers or how she could stop the terror unfurling before her eyes - but determined all the same to try - when the doors to the library were flung open so hard they swung wide and crashed against the wall behind as Emma, Killian, Snow, Charming, Ruby, and Henry (though the latter was shielded behind his family and Granny with her crossbow) charged through.

Emma's flashing green eyes took in the scene in an instant and her voice snapped like a whip as she called out harshly, "Hey, what do you two witches think you're doing?" He golden hair shone and glinted in the sunlight pouring through the door from behind her, and she looked so confident - feet planted firmly, brows drawn in righteous anger - that for a moment how formidable her foes were and the fact that Emma didn't even precisely know how her magic worked flew from everyone else's minds.

Cora narrowed her eyes at this annoyance, this "Savior" who had already evaded her grasp and ruined her plans once. She attempted the unconcerned simper she had used on many others as she replied, "Nothing you can do anything about," but there was the slightest note of uncertainty behind the taunt, a hint of remembrance that while Emma Swan might not have full command over her abilities, she was indeed strong, and the witch had already felt just how much raw power Snow and Charming's daughter possessed.

"We'll see about that," Emma countered, desperate anxiety mixing with anger in her voice. She too had had enough of these power hungry tyrants thinking they could manipulate other people's lives like pawns on a chessboard with no regard for consequences or the pain they might cause. She flung her arms forward, hands outstretched as if hoping her sheer need and emotion would call forth the stunning blast of light that had saved her, and those she loved, twice before. At the same moment, Cora unleashed her own magic in a much more practiced and concentrated burst, even as Regina turned back to Graham and Belle with a wicked gleam in her eye.

In a stunning collision, Emma's blinding white magic shot from her hands and crashed into the plume of darkly billowing amethyst smoke that poured from Cora's fingers. The impact seemed to rock the entire building, and everyone was frozen in place - as if time had been stopped still. No one moved or breathed, until suddenly the very atmosphere seemed to shimmer, heave, and the jerk back into motion again. For a moment, everyone inside the tiny library blinked, shell shocked, but before anything else could be done, it was Henry who stepped forward and spoke beseechingly.

"Mom, stop this!...Please!" The heartwrenching quaver in his voice gave Emma pause, but when she looked back over her shoulder to find her son's earnestly pleading face, it was Regina on whom his big, brown eyes were focused.

Drawing in a tense breath, Emma forced herself to hold still, rather than immediately putting herself between her son and the woman who'd had the opportunity to raise him for the first ten years of his life. She willed herself to stay in place as Henry took two, then three, tentative steps forward, more clearly into Regina's line of sight. She wouldn't hesitate for a second to use her own body to shield Henry if curses began flying, but she could also see the disappointment and heartbreak emblazoned across his face. It was clear that she need to give him a chance. He needed to see for himself whether or not Regina cared enough about him to pull back from her villainous purposes, or if she would push forward with her plans whether it hurt him or not. Though Mayor Mills, the Evil Queen, however it was most fitting to refer to her, might have mislead him, isolated him, ignored or pushed him aside, she had also given Henry a house to in live in, clothes to wear, food to eat, and been all the mother he'd ever known until he found Emma. She could understand that her son must be torn right now, and needing to find out if he could reach this woman who'd raised him - whatever her faults - or if the good he had hoped and believed might be hidden deep within her was completely gone.

"Mom?" Henry asked again, his voice even more plaintive as time passed and it looked as though she truly wouldn't stop, even for him. He took a hesitant step forward, Emma's eyes flickering anxiously between Regina and her mother and Henry, muscles tensing even further in preparation for whatever rash movement she might have to spring into.

For several interminable seconds, it seemed as though Henry's plea was going to fall on deaf ears, that the Evil Queen was going to force her hand, and the library very well might come down around all of their ears in the aftermath. But then slowly, even as Emma was still holding her breath, hardly daring to hope, Regina relented.

The mayor's shoulders sagged as she hung her head, quite possibly remembering the promise she had made Henry not so very long ago - that she would try to change, to stop abusing magic, and to seek love honestly rather than take it. Her whole posture was altered as she backed several steps away from where she had stood nearly toe-to-toe with Graham, and pulled her mother reluctantly along with her.

Relieved, but not taken in, Emma didn't drop her guard when her adversary turned to face the newcomers at the entrance. A film of unshed tears welled in her dark eyes visibly as she sought out Henry's face, knowing better than to look for sympathy or understanding anywhere else. Shaking her head, she reached out an empty hand, palm up as if asking Henry to take it. Regina began to flounder through a weak excuse. "Henry...I'm sorry honey, but...you have to understand. They were going to try to keep you from me. This was the only way that I could be sure…"

But Henry cut her off, shaking his head vigorously and squinching his eyes closed, as if he needed to not even see her in order to shut her out. "You don't know that!" he countered, his voice distraught, harsh with a volatile mix of emotions - anger, confusion, fear and hurt. "You were losing control, and you didn't like it! But you promised me you'd do better and here you are, about to take my friends' hearts!" He drug in a ragged breath that hitched on a sob, and that made Emma, Regina, and even Snow, all nearly reach out to hold him almost reflexively, and then just manage to pull their hands back to let him finish. "And for what?" he finally continued. "How could you?!"

It was clear that the woman facing them now, head bowed and eyes that had been flashing with devious mocking and insidious intent when they'd burst in, was at least ashamed at failing Henry, if nothing else. Emma had only seen the mayor as poised, cool, and in control of every situation; nothing breaking her smooth, icy exterior, and it made it hard to believe the rapid shift or the vulnerability she was suddenly exposing.

That was at least until Cora took the moment to reassert her dominance over the situation. Her voice was a harsh, grating warning over the silence that had fallen in the book-filled space as she pushed forward toward her momentarily neutralized daughter. "Regina, pull yourself together!" she ordered. "Don't lose sight of the prize!" She clutched at Regina's arm with grasping fingers that clenched so hard that Emma could see whitened skin on her foe's arm.

"Stand down, Mother!" Regina snapped back, pulling from Cora's grip and away. "It's over! We're not going to do this in front of Henry."

The Queen of Hearts flushed red at the shut down, her gaze darkening until a howl of rage rose up her throat in a terrifying eruption. "You ungrateful wretch!" she spat at her daughter, startling everyone else looking on with the violence of her attack. "You honestly intend to turn your back on me?! That dagger is nearly in our reach and you're going to let the Savior's brat make you hesitate? I'll take care of that!"

The threat clicked in Emma's mind even as it must have in Regina's. Henry was still standing in the open, and Emma suddenly felt all too far away to reach him in time. Cora was drawing herself up, already releasing her deadly strike aimed at the so-called distraction keeping her daughter from acting as she saw fit. Though Emma was already moving, calling out for Henry to duck, to cover his head, anything to spare him, she realized that his adoptive mother had gone into action as well.

Just before Cora's curse could strike Henry square in the chest, Regina dove in front of him with a desperate plea of his name on her tongue. Henry stumbled as the adult form now strangely limp and quiet made contact and then crumpled against him. A grown woman's weight easily sent him to the floor with a thump, the queen's head and shoulders ending up cradled weakly in his jeans-clad lap.

The purple magic cloud sparked as if angry lightning were encased within, thwarted from reaching its target, the deadly curse ricocheted back as the rest of them looked on paralyzed and entranced. Belle just barely had enough foresight in her muddled head to grip Graham's forearm and pull him back toward her own body, sending both of them stumbling to lean against the study table behind them, but far to the side enough to avoid the spell's bounce back on its caster. Cora's horrible banshee wail of shocked pain reverberated through the air around them for a moment, echoing off the library walls and then, with a deep, resounding 'boom', she was gone; a dark pile of ashy dust where she had stood all that was left of the Queen of Hearts.

Mind reeling, not certain if it could truly be possible that such a cunning foe would be dispatched so completely without her having to have paid some horrible price or twisted herself somehow to accomplish it, Emma glanced to Killian for assurance, confirmation, some sign that her eyes weren't deceiving her and that the woman whose wiles he admittedly understood much better than she, was really gone. He had already drawn closer to her, right at her elbow, his body's warmth running the length of her side, his somewhat stunted left hand pressed to the small of her back in steady support. She gave a flicker of a half-smile to him, drinking in the comfort it was meant to be and sinking into his presence slightly, relieved beyond measure she was no longer forced to deal with such earth-shattering moments on her own.

They didn't have long to savor their relief, however, as Henry's choked voice caught their attention once more, even as the hesitant whisper it was. "Wait, hold on… You're going to be fine… A-aren't you?"

Regina's voice when it answered him from where she lay looking up into his innocent, sweet face was a bare, soft rasp, a mere shadow of the commanding tone it had once been. She reached a feeble hand up to cup the side of Henry's cheek for a moment before it fell weakly to the floor beside her once more. With what seemed a monumental effort, she gave the tiniest shake of her head before replying, with a sort of near-calm acceptance, "No, I don't think I will, Henry…. This is...r-really...no more than I deserve. At least….at least I was able to do s-something to….save you…" Her voice grew more labored, and long spaces were staggered between the words as she struggled to take in breaths. His whole family had gathered in solidarity around Henry; Emma coming to kneel just behind her son with a bracing hand on his back to reassure him she was there.

Emma noticed, taken aback once more, that as Regina uttered just a few more words a hazy blue glow began to surround her, making the lines and planes of her face less distinct as she seemed to fade before their eyes. "You're the one good thing I managed to find, Henry," she breathed out. "A-adopting you was at least… s-something I got right. I'm sorry I h-hurt you...that I k-kept letting you down…" Her chest heaved with a last valiant effort, "Henry… I love you…"

Shaking his head against the truth before his eyes, Henry fought the sobs climbing up his throat to bend over Regina just before her eyes flicked closed completely. Placing a kiss on her forehead, he barely managed his stricken, "I love you too."

The blue light that had engulfed the mayor's entire body flared brighter for an instant, and then it - and she - were gone. She had vanished as if never there at all, leaving the rest of them speechless and stunned.

Henry turned his head into Emma's chest and gave himself over to his tears in earnest in his mother's arms. Emma's heart ached for him as she gathered him tightly into her embrace, rocking gently as they sat there in a heap on the library floor, otherwise feeling almost numb and unclear what had just happened.

Two of their foes were dead. The Evil Queen was no more - and in the end she had shown that some small remainder of the young noblewoman who had known how to love fully and deeply, a sliver of the true heart that had saved Snow White's life long ago, was still buried within her. It had been too little perhaps, and too late to save her life, but in the end as well as dark and treacherous villain, she had simply been Regina Mills - deeply flawed perhaps but painfully human as well.

Emma continued to hold Henry close, hoping to soothe him in even the slightest degree, but looking over his head at, first Ruby and Granny, then her parents, and finally Killian, with pressing questions in her eyes. They were safer than they had been, that much was sure. But what had they just witnessed? What dagger was Cora talking about? And how would the Dark One react to the loss of both his accomplices?

Right now, her first priority was her son, making sure he could grieve his loss and heal. She could practically read Killian's agreement in his deep, sympathetic eyes as he nodded to her in confirmation - as if they had communicated it all without words. Still, they needed those answers, and they needed to know them before Rumplestiltskin came calling.


	13. chapter twelve: when the smoke clears

_chapter twelve ~_ _when the smoke clears_

The following morning, after the dust had settled so to speak, found Emma waking early, not having rested terribly well between worry for Henry, attempting to process all that had happened the day before, and missing her wolf man's warmth beside her in bed to help her rest peacefully, after growing used to the solid comfort of his presence over the past few nights spent in their temporary hideaway. She had returned to her parents' loft and the bedroom she'd occupied as Mary Margaret's roommate before the curse had broken - feeling she needed to provide Henry with as much stability and family around him as possible after the painful upheaval and loss he had just endured. However, she could already tell that lingering in a bedroom of her parents' like an errant teenager while Killian slept alone on his ship was only going to work for her for so long; now that she had found the One meant to lie beside her for the rest of her life, remaining apart seemed a needless trial that held no appeal.

The sun hadn't even fully risen, but she needed to see that her son was okay. Emma's heart was troubled for Henry as she crawled out from under her covers and padded barefoot across the floor and down the hall toward the bedroom that had been set aside for her son once he had moved in as well once the extent of Regina's villainy came to light. Pushing at the door lightly, and momentarily relieved to find it unlocked and not even fully latched, Emma meant only to peek in and see that her baby was still resting as she hoped. After losing the woman who had raised him yesterday - and in a genuinely stunning moment of selfless sacrifice at that - Emma would have understood if he hadn't been able to sleep at all. She wouldn't have even been shocked if Henry had needed to scream and shout, tear this room apart and rail at the unfairness of his adoptive mother seeming to finally realize just how much Henry meant to her, right before traumatically leaving him forever. Instead, however, the room was perfectly neat (as uncharacteristic for an 11-year-old boy as it ever was); the only things not tidily in order his storybook open on his desk with a notebook and pencil and some blank white drawing paper beside it, where Henry usually kept them, and the rumpled sheets and covers atop his bed.

However, once Emma fully set foot in the room, her "mom" radar went off almost immediately. The room was completely empty; her son wasn't there, and hadn't been for some time, if the cool sheets beneath that mound of tangled bedding were any indication. Her heart was immediately thrumming against her larynx as she tried to remain calm. Maybe he hadn't been able to sleep and had snuck downstairs for a snack or to curl up on the couch with tv or a book, and had simply been quiet enough not to wake her as he did. She tried to tell herself that panic wouldn't do her any good, even as she was already whirling to rush back out of the bedroom and down the stairs in search of her son, exerting nearly all the control she had not to cry out his name and wake the whole house prematurely.

Henry's wasn't on the couch curled up with Pop Tarts and blankets, nor was he sprawled on the floor in front of his game console, as Emma had hoped. After all that had happened in the last week, and the generally unpredictable nature of magic, she was not at all convinced that Cora, nor her seemingly repentant daughter, or any other pressing threat to Henry's safety was permanently gone, and her hands were genuinely shaking as she checked the kitchen next, nearly darting back out again before she glimpsed the scrap of paper sitting noticeably on the kitchen island. Two steps brought her close enough to snatch it up and see that the note was scrawled in Henry's distinctively angular hand. 'Mom, don't worry, okay? I'm alright. I just couldn't sleep. Thought maybe I'd sit at the docks for a while. If you wake up before I'm back, that's where I'll be. Love, Henry,' she murmured as she read the note aloud to herself. A large part of her wanted to rush right down to the docks and shake some sense into her eleven-year-old for scaring her so badly, yet the smaller, and marginally more logical, part of her cautioned that he had actually thought to leave her a note explaining where he had gone, and to have even realized she might be concerned to begin with.

Anxious to check on him all the same, and though his note said he was, see for herself that her boy was alright, Emma turned the paper over, hastily dashing off a note of her own to her parents that she'd gone to talk with Henry and watch the sunrise and not to wait on the two of them for breakfast, she donned her own jacket over her thermal sleepshirt and shoved her feet and the hems of her flannel pajama pants into her boots, not caring how silly it looked in her haste, and was out the door mere moments from finding Henry's note.

Once her feet had carried her down to Storybrooke's small harbor, Emma's sharp eyes were already busily scanning the docks and shoreline for Henry's form, sight peeled for his distinctive red and grey striped scarf over his dark winter peacoat and the unruly brown mop of hair that she was almost certain he would have forgotten to bring a hat to cover, though the crisp air had more than a hint of a bite to it. After several tense seconds, she located him, sitting on a bench near the end of the docks - not at all far from where Killian's ship was berthed - looking out over the water. Finally, feeling able to let out a breath of relief, Emma headed toward him, noticing with an affectionate chuckle that his chin was tucked into his collar and hands shoved deep in his pockets, clearly cold, but too stubborn to leave his vantage point, and was glad she'd thought to bring along the toboggan and gloves she'd shoved into her jacket pockets for him.

Henry glanced up and over at her with a tiny smile as she drew near, her booted footsteps echoing with solid "thunks" on the creaking wood planks of the dock. He scooted over a bit, wordlessly making room for her to sit beside him, and Emma's heart swelled warmly at the gesture, and that, whatever was going on in his mind, he wasn't shutting her out.

Plopping herself down beside Henry, Emma offered the gloves while then reaching out to pull the toboggan down over his ears until it very much replicated that way she wore her own and had to be greatly reducing his risk of ear infection, cough and cold at the same time.

In response, her son merely cut his eyes at her with the sort of fond exasperation only a near-teen can manage for a parent he feels is being overprotective. He left the knit woolen hat on though, and pulled the gloves onto his cold-reddened hands, so Emma happily counted it a win.

They sat side-by-side on the bench, arms pressed together against the chill, looking out over the choppy waves that rolled in before them, breaking against the supports of the pier below, without speaking for several languid moments. Neither of them seem discomfited by the quiet however, and Emma couldn't help thrilling (at least a little) on the inside to the idea that Henry had inherited this little quirk from her. He might only be eleven, but he didn't appear to need to fill every quiet moment with chatter just to keep back awkwardness. Certainly Henry was an animated storyteller and prone to boisterous enthusiasm and chatter when the occasion suited him, but he also could be silently introspective and honestly deeper than Emma had realized a child his age could be until meeting her long lost son.

Eventually though, Henry let out a sigh that sounded more than a bit morose, leaning against her side and laying his head on her shoulder. The action made Emma crane her neck to look down at his face without disturbing him, wondering if she had misread his apparent calm. "Hey," she spoke gently, her voice lowered as she leaned into him in return to bump her shoulder against his own. "I got your note, kid. Thanks for letting me know where you were."

He shrugged noncommittally, but didn't look up at her and blinked several times quickly, giving away a hint of his inner emotions. Emma left her words hanging, but when Henry didn't offer any audible response, she tried again. "Still, you were up and out pretty early… you sure you're alright?"

"Dunno," Henry finally muttered, face rising enough not to be staring down at his hands in his lap, but also not really meeting his mom's gaze. His shrug and lack of words on the subject pretty much told Emma all she needed to know, even if her kid did keep his eyes trained on the undulating waves before them with a squinted focus she knew the view didn't truly require. Her heart ached for Henry, even if she couldn't help being personally relieved that there were no longer three powerful magic wielders wreaking havoc throughout town - two of which had been after Henry, whatever their reasons.

She determinedly set that line of thinking aside and tentatively reached out to take Henry's hand in one of her own. She didn't want to smother him, and he was pretty obviously still trying to work out for himself some of how he felt. However when he didn't argue or pull his hand out of her grip, Emma gave his fingers what she hoped was a reassuring squeeze and rested her chin atop his head for a moment while leaning over to speak softly, "It's okay, you know… to be hurt and confused… and even angry… but to still miss her. You don't have to be afraid to talk to me, or your grandparents, about it if you need to either. You get that, right? Yes, we were at odds with Regina a lot, but that doesn't change the fact that you grew up with her as your mother and that you cared for her. In the end, she must have loved you as well as she knew how."

Henry did finally look at her then, his bright eyes slanted in her direction with a look much too wise for his eleven years and a huff of consternation. "I know that!" he argued.

"Good," she said simply, a tiny curve of her lips turning the corners of her mouth up in what she hoped was a comforting smile. "Cause I wouldn't want you coming out here to sit in the cold, thinking you had to hide whatever you're thinking or feeling."

Those lanky, thin shoulders on a form that seemed to be stretching up taller and fuller from being a little boy every day - much too quickly for her as she was just getting to know the little boy she had missed a whole decade with - shrugged once more, and then on a tense breath, as if frustrated that he didn't quite know how to word what he wanted to say, he finally offered, "I know...it's not that. It's just…" he fidgeted again, the weighted silence stretching out as the wind whipped against their cheeks and the waves crashed against the rocky shore and the supports of the pier.

When he eventually turned to look her full in the face, Emma could see that Henry was searching her for the truth and the answer he needed. "Do you ever wish you could just get away?" he finally asked earnestly, biting his lower lip as he did so before continuing. "I mean, just leave it all behind and escape...at least… at least 'til you felt like yourself again? I feel like everything's falling apart around us, and I just wanted to run this morning. I needed to be outside. It felt like the walls were closing in."

It was all Emma could do not to let out a huff of air in surprise and chuckle at the realization of how much he was like her after all. She knew all too well exactly the feeling Henry described; it was something she had often felt - and heeded - all her life. Until he turned up at her door in Boston, and she returned to make a life in Storybrooke, found a job she loved and the parents she'd never known, and now forged a bond so strong she wouldn't have believed it was possible with a man she couldn't resist in Killian - until all that, getting away when the need to run and keep that safe wall up around herself had practically been her MO. Instead, she valiantly managed to keep her face neutral, only nodding gently to let Henry know she understood and urge him to go on.

A tingling wash of awareness crept along her skin as Henry admitted he wished he had known a way to get his other mother to leave town with him for a time. Maybe if Regina hadn't found Cora again, or if she'd had to be out in the non-magical world for a time and refrain from using magic herself, she could have shaken its grip. Maybe if he'd said he wanted to go somewhere with her, let her know he still loved her too…

Emma was quick to interrupt that train of thought when her son's words trailed off sadly, cautioning him not to do that to himself, none of Regina's actions were his fault, nor did dwelling on and living in "what ifs" do anyone much good.

"Still," Henry sighed, finally fully relaxing against her and welcoming it when Emma wrapped her arms around him and snuggled him to her side. "I know it's not very heroic - not like the rest of you guys - but I still can't help wishing for just a little break… a little vacation from all this."

Emma smiled, both at for once knowing what she wanted to say and how she thought she could help when so often she felt off-balance and five steps behind at instantly being the parent of a precocious pre-teen, and at also finally laying eyes on the reason for the way her hair was prickling along the back of her neck and her skin was shivering with a current of excitement. Just a bit down the dock from where they sat, Killian Jones had climbed up from the captain's quarters below deck with navy henley untucked over dark jeans and was stretching luxuriously and shaking his head of dark, shaggy hair out in an adorably canine manner as he sauntered over to his ship's rail to watch the sun rising in the rapidly lightening sky.

As if he sensed her eyes on him, Killian turned; his sharp, preternaturally blue and far-reaching gaze enveloping her even from a distance as he grinned at her knowingly, a carnivorous sort of smile lingered on his lips and warmed her insides as he moved toward the gangplank and, she had no doubt, headed their way.

A matching smile started to grow on her own lips as Emma fully realized the thrumming in her veins was her own awareness of him, and it was only strengthening as Killian drew closer. Still, she focused back on Henry to ask, "Would it help if I said I felt that way all the time when I first came here? And that sometimes I still do? When I don't know how to make something better for you? Or I start to worry that I'm not the lost princess this town expected? Or the daughter David and Mary Margaret wished for?"

Henry was listening very intently now, clearly already feeling better at just knowing he wasn't the only one in a family full of heroes to sometimes feel the weight of that mantle was just a bit too heavy to bear.

Killian was indeed drawing close to them now as well; his look turned to one of concern and care, letting her know that his werewolf keen hearing had given him the gist of their conversation. She sent a silent look that she hoped conveyed her welcome, that it was alright for him to join them, wordlessly before adding to Henry, "See? It's okay to feel that way sometimes. You're not the only one, and it's natural."

Her son nodded, and his face did look at least somewhat less clouded with worry.

"Besides," Emma continued, allowing a twinkle into her eyes that she knew Henry would quickly pick up on. "If that feeling ever gets too strong, to where it feels like even just a couple hours' freedom would make all the difference in the world… I think we know someone who could probably help us out."

She nodded over Henry's shoulder just as Killian reached them, and without missing a beat, when Henry turned to see him there, Killian greeted smoothly, "Did I hear someone call me?"

Henry's brow furrowed doubtfully, "We didn't say your name, Killian. Did we?" He looked to Emma, confused but not at all bothered by seeing her love there, much to Emma's delight. She gave Henry a grin, and let the playfulness in her eyes meet Killian's over his head as she looked up before responding. "Well, we did mention him, in a way. See, Killian has his ship right here - " she pointed to the Jolly practically sparkling beautifully with the morning dew still on her hull glittering in the sunrise as she rocked gently on the water. "And I'll bet," here she winked at Killian conspiratorially, hoping she was right in her slight assumption, "that he'd be willing to take you out for a sail in her if you ever got that feeling of needing to escape for a while again."

Henry's eyes widened in awe as he took in the vessel in person for the first time, rather than on the pages of his storybook. Emma had found there were very few of the many things she'd went to explain to Henry about this man who'd taken her - and her heart - by surprise that he hadn't already known from reading his book. And to her relief (and slight worry for her son's own sense of reality and self-preservation) none of it had seemed to phase Henry or put him off at all. "I read his story, Mom," Henry had concluded that conversation emphatically when Emma had broached it with him. "Yeah, he's done some bad things - but so have lots of people. He has a good heart; you can tell that all through it."

Her son's voice speaking to Killian again snapped Emma back from her reverie, and she was the one soon blinking back a swell of affection for these two men in her life as Henry asked, "You'd really do that? … For me?"

Killian nodded solemnly all seriousness in his desire to show the boy he was sincere. "Of course, lad. We're friends now, remember?"

Henry nodded enthusiastically, almost wiggling with excitement, and she shot Killian a grateful look at seeing that her son's previous guilt and sadness seemed to be at least momentarily forgotten. In the next moment, Henry was up and moving toward Killian's ship, wide-eyed and full of enthusiastic questions, pulling them both along in his wake.

"Do you live on here?" Henry asked, looking over his shoulder to Killian's face briefly, even as he trailed a reverent hand along the Jolly's side. "Have you always? How did you manage shifting into a wolf when you were out at sea?"

Emma winced slightly at the barrage of questions, and especially at the rather personal nature of that last; well-used to Henry's unquenchable curiosity, but knowing that it was new to Killian.

However, she found in the next instant that she needn't have worried. Killian chuckled fondly, the deep rumble of it seeming to shudder through her bones in a way that made them feel as if they were going to mush. She shook her head distractedly, trying to remind herself not to go to pieces with wanting him while he was speaking with her son. He patted Henry's shoulder good naturedly, seeming more entertained by his questions than bothered or upset "I do live onboard," Killian answered honestly. "It can be a bit of a tight fit at times, but I'm used to it now, and she holds all that I really need. Or…" his eyes flicked over to capture Emma's, not seeming at all worried that Henry was drinking in his every word and gesture. Her breath caught in her throat again when he clarified, "or at least until recently, she had all I needed."

For a moment the air was charged with the electricity crackling over the space between them. Neither spoke, and even Henry seemed unable to break the weighted silence. But then, Henry shifted on his feet impatiently, and Killian's eyes broke his hold on hers to look back at the young boy at his side before continuing. "I've lived on a ship since I was just about your age," he said to her son, and Emma sensed that the pain there was still near the surface, however he tried to mask it for Henry's benefit. She didn't know how much detail Henry's book had gone into on the circumstances of how Killian and his brother had come to be part of the ship's crew, but Killian had just told her the story of his father selling his children for the price of a rowboat mere days ago, and she knew the wound from that sort of abandonment - had believed herself abandoned just as casually for so long that she knew it well - didn't simply fade away.

"It wasn't always pleasant," she heard Killian saying to Henry. "My brother and I were basically servants for many years. But now, well…" here he reached out to gently lay his calloused hand on the ship's side himself, "I'd never imagined living anywhere else."

Henry nodded, taking the words in, then opened his mouth, to repeat his last question, no doubt.

Shaking his head, Killian laughed out loud, crinkles of mirth at the corners of his eyes, "You don't miss a beat, do you, m'boy?"

Henry beamed too and shook his head, eagerly awaiting Killian's answer.

"Well, luckily for me - as who knows what might have happened to Liam and I if I had shifted while we still belonged to Captain Silver - the changes didn't start until I reached my teen years. I've since learned that's natural, but I didn't know it then. Liam never shifted at all. I don't know why he didn't, but he was as frightened and unprepared as I when it happened. Yet, it didn't change his love for me or his protectiveness of me either." Killian's voice was far away, and his eyes had gone a bit misty, clearly seeing his beloved brother once more in his mind's eye. Emma was just moving to reach out to him in comfort, when Henry stole her breath by silently reaching out to take the man's hand himself.

Killian held it gratefully and pressed on. "I was out of my mind in that tiny bunk, my wolf needing so desperately to be free. I was climbing the walls, about to tear things apart, and Liam was frantic trying to keep me hidden…" he shook his head at the memory. "It was unbelievably fortunate that our commanding officer - we'd enlisted in the navy by then - knew of the supernatural beings in the world, and knew that my change into wolf form was possible. I've always suspected he bore the ability and its secret himself, but I never learned for certain. He helped us to hide or disguise it until I learned more control and grew into my powers. Whenever it was possible, he managed to have our ship in dock when the moon was full and I couldn't hold the shift back, so I could escape to the forest and run."

They were all three quiet for a moment then. Henry's curiosity sated for the time being and clearly mulling over all that Killian had told them. Emma had moved to Killian's side, laid her hand on his back in support as she felt a part of him was still wandering in the past, and felt a series of tremors shivering through him, despite his steady exterior. None of them moved for a bit longer, until Killian moved to wrap her in a silent hug, holding on tightly and drawing strength from her support.

He had just pulled away and asked Henry with a happier tone of voice and a renewed twinkle in his eye if he wanted to come aboard and see the rest of the vessel for himself, when they were interrupted by an urgent voice calling their names.

The sound of running footsteps pounded on the wooden boards of the dock, and they looked up to see Belle and Graham running toward them. Graham's long legs and lupine stamina could easily have passed up the much shorter strides Belle's tiny stature forced her to take, but he remained firmly at her side, loping along with a devotion directly reminiscent of his domesticated canine brethren. Belle, however, was running full tilt as fast as she could until she skidded to a stop before them.

"We found it," she panted, a hand on Emma's outstretched arm to steady herself, even as Graham's palm came to rest on her back in support as well, barely winded himself. "We figured out what dagger Cora was after. One that Rumple has been...has been hiding all this time..." She shook her head, still catching her breath and not willing to think any longer on his secretive nature and deception, all that the man had hidden from her when she had believed him to be sharing and opening himself. Belle drew another gasp into her burning lungs before finishing, "And I think I know where it is."


	14. chapter thirteen: moment of truth

_chapter thirteen ~ moment of truth_

It didn't take long after Belle and Graham's shocking arrival for their whole group to be on the move again, not wanting to be too conspicuous, but also understanding the urgency of staying ahead of Rumplestiltskin, of having the dagger in hand already before the Dark One realized what they were about. Of course, one could never be sure he didn't already know everything the moment it was thought, through some uncanny knack or his unnatural power, but it didn't decrease their necessity for the element of surprise in the slightest; they could at least attempt it.

Thankfully, it was still quite early, even before the time Leroy routinely showed up at Granny's for the early bird breakfast special, so there weren't many Storybrooke citizens out on the streets to see them. Ruby, however, was putting Granny's specials board on the sidewalk out front as they passed by, immediately sensed the urgency in their brisk walk, and knew something was happening.

Clearly she could also gather their need to be as unnoticed as possible, for she didn't call out, only shrugged her jacket up higher on her shoulders and jogged after them wordlessly. Her long, rangey strides caught up to them in no time, despite the spike heels on her knee-high black leather boots, and she fell into step with her brother, obviously set on helping however she could, no explanation needed. She gave Henry a gentle smile when he offered her the sort of friendly wave he always did when he came to the diner for hot chocolate in the morning, and Emma's heart warmed anew for the outgoing brunette giving Henry just a hint of normalcy in the fraught situation.

Before very long, they had left the main track of town behind, and Emma was more than a bit glad they had three werewolves within their number, one of whom had studied the Dark One's ways and motives in search of a weakness for centuries and could lend insight on their foe that no one else could possibly offer. What Killian might not know had quite possibly been provided for them in the discovery of the petite librarian in their midst. Belle's insights and knowledge of Rumplestiltskin came from a completely different angle, having endeavored to know and understand him out of love and a thwarted desire to heal and restore, but it made them all the stronger to have both sides. It should help them not to miss anything - or at least that was Emma's hope.

"What now?" she breathed, slightly winded despite being in decent shape, at the pace they had been keeping and the rougher terrain as they had left the beaten path and trekked into the forest. The morning light had yet to penetrate much beyond a dull grey between the trees, and she found herself hoping it hadn't been a mistake to set off immediately with Henry in tow. Surely three adults who could shift into wolves at will could protect her son from any natural dangers which might lurk in the woods and the dark, but even the strength and agility of the shifters wasn't magic in the same vein or force as what the Dark One himself could command.

Without seeming conscious thought, both Killian and Ruby deferred to Graham with expectant looks. Ruby didn't surprise Emma, knowing the two had grown up together and were probably well used to working together to their best effect, but Killian did. A strong, virile, independent male wolf, especially one who was as capable and experienced as her love, and who had spent so much time alone, would not have struck Emma as someone to easily cede control to another - even if they were one the same side and Graham, as sheriff, held an acknowledged position of leadership. Mere moments later, she realized it must be because he recognized that Graham knew the lay of this particular land best and was a tracker by trade as well as animal instincts. He was acting in a way that maximized their chances for success and allowed their team to progress at its smoothest, even if it sacrificed some of his own pride or personal inclinations.

If she hadn't already been falling in over her head, crazy in love with him, that gave her just one more push - his willingness to do what was needed to keep all of them, the town, _and her son_ , safe. She reached out even as Graham led them onward, veering slightly to the west and gently sloping downhill through the trees, and took Killian's hand. Even on the move, she had to show him that she understood what he was doing - and what it meant to her - without delay. Shooting a warm, knowing look his way as well, she smiled at him, gaining a pleased, rakish grin in return from the man who jogged beside her. His fringe of dark hair was falling over his forehead, and his already delicious spiced, musky scent was mingling with the pine, dewy mist, and fresh earth of the forest around them, along with the hint of sweat from their exertions, to make him even more irresistibly attractive than he had been already. Grinning broadly, Emma focused back to the path before them, anxious to see this through, make sure that Henry (and everyone else depending on her) was safe from the Dark One, and then she would hopefully have another moment to drag Killian off and enjoy having him alone once again.

His brow quirked, studying her profile, though he didn't speak a single word in his unfairly beautiful accented voice. Instead, to Emma's chagrin and causing an intense blush to rise up her face, he merely wet his lips knowingly, as if he could read her mind and approved her plans, and then turned his own attention back to the trail before them.

Before venturing too much further, Emma knew for herself where this path lead. They were quite close to the open clearing where the wishing well - the connection to Lake Nostos in the rest of her companions' own realm, as she had since learned of the destination for the disastrous ride August had once taken her on - stood in the midst of the forest pointedly noticable and yet belonging strangely at the same time. She was about to speak up and ask if they were sure this was the right way, when the trees opened into a wide circle, she could see the stone structure for herself, and knew that they had already arrived.

Coming to a stop, Emma drew in a ragged breath, and in that pause it was Belle who spoke up instead. "Wait, I know this place…" she murmured thoughtfully, as if trying to peer through memory and the mists of a dream. Stepping forward tentatively, Graham again right at her side; not holding her back, but seemingly unable to have her venture into any situation unknown without his assistance and companionship. Belle's hand reached out to lightly rest on the cool stone blocks forming the sides of the well, her mouth slightly open and her forehead creased in thought. When she spoke again, it was little above a whisper, exhaled on a surprised, awed breath. "I've been here before. Rumple brought me to this place...just after the curse broke. He- he brought Magic back from here...by something he dropped into the well."

Ruby already had her nose lifted, delicately scenting the air around them for Rumplestiltskin's trail, Emma supposed. Belle stood, biting her lip nervously and looking pained, as if she should somehow have been able to predict the insanity that would follow. Henry however, piped right in as the rest of them went quiet in breathless waiting. "That actually makes a lot of sense," her son stated, a tinge of genuine excitement at the adventure in his voice, despite the serious danger they were all in from Rumplestiltskin. "According to the storybook, Lake Nostos was the place where things once lost could be restored. This well is a genuine link, the water within it still holds those properties and symbolic power - if one believes," he tacked on the end hastily, seeing Emma open her mouth to argue that she had drunk from it once and hadn't felt any different, and cutting her argument off before she could utter it.

Giving her son a grudging half-smile and playful wink, Emma nodded, conceding the point. "Fine, kid, I'll give you that one."

Belle looked even more thoughtful at Henry's words, speaking slowly as she mused, "Rumple does value his magical totems and talismans… There's no doubt about that. And he isn't above a bit of superstition or situational irony either. But surely...with something this important… Would he really keep it somewhere so open to anyone's access?"

Probably without even considering, Belle looked to Graham as she asked her question. The sheriff clearly didn't seem any more certain than the rest of them on the thought processes of the Dark One, but he did know how to organize a search party. Giving Belle a reassuring nod and a gentle squeeze of her hand, he then spoke to all of them in a voice of quiet command with his answer. "Let's spread out. Check the whole clearing. We don't know for certain it's here, but scent and instinct led us this far, so we'd better make sure. Look for upturned earth, any places where rocks or brush might have been moved or dragged, anything that seems out of place."

All of them moved to do as he bid, Ruby again seeming to follow her nose as she lifted it to best catch the light breeze. Their five person party spread out around the grassy space surrounding the wishing well, but Emma's eyes were drawn almost magnetically to Killian. He wasn't searching all over as the rest of them were, but had instead moved directly to the stone structure in the clearing's center, brow dark and furrowed, a low hum in the back of his throat, seeming deep in thought. It wasn't even a conscious choice to turn from her own path and follow him; Emma simply did it.

As he reached the well, Killian's large hand came to rest thoughtfully on its lip, studying the stone as if the dagger might simply appear, plunged into its surface like Excalibur of old or as if the stone itself might speak and give him an answer.

When Emma could stand the concentrated silence no longer, she finally spoke up, her voice a mere whisper as her hand came to rest tentatively on his taut, muscled forearm. "Killian, what is it? What are you thinking?"

Killian's eyes, normally ice-chip blue, but now more simmering blue flame, flicked over for a moment to meet her concerned gaze. His voice was low but ferociously intent when he murmured. "Just about what Belle said, Love… and what I know of the Dark One after years of hate-fueled study. We may be making this all too difficult. Yes, the Dark One is clever - and a formidable foe, not to be underestimated, but he is also immortal and all-powerful. He has gone without equal for so long that he seeks a challenge. He makes deals out of sheer boredom, and I daresay may have grown more than a bit overconfident." As he spoke, Killian began to run his hand along the inner wall of the cistern, feeling along the stone as if he could somehow trace it by memory. Emma could practically read the focused determination in the very lines of his face, his movements as slow and methodical as his accompanying words, not wanting to miss an inch of the just-barely-hidden surface. "In fact, reckless as it might seem for one so usually calculated, I wouldn't be at all surprised if he hid it in nearly plain sight; thinking the rest of us not nearly clever enough to find it, nor powerful enough to stop him even if we did, not knowing what we had in our grasp…"

His voice trailed off as Killian went suddenly still, rigid attention quivering from every inch of his wiry frame, as Emma couldn't help freezing right along with him in response, waiting with anxiously bated breath.

"I think…" Killian finally breathed lowly, clearly working to break something his fingers had touched free. He gave a final tug and lifted his hand from within the lip of the wishing well, "...I may have found something!" he finished triumphantly.

There, clutched in his hand, was an insidiously wicked-looking dagger. Emma hadn't thought to ask for a description of the weapon they were seeking, but before she could even put a response together, she heard a gasp from over her shoulder that sounded like Belle, and the sound of the others' footsteps crunching over fallen leaves toward them. For her own part, Emma found disturbingly that she was a bit enthralled by the glistening silver surface of the blade, its edges curved and undulating like the sleek movement of a serpent, with darker black engravings of shapes and whirls and the letters of Rumplestiltskin's name.

"You found it," Belle confirmed with a sad type of certainty in her voice, as she came to stand at Emma's elbow, Graham on her right and Ruby on her left, Henry pressing right into the midst of their awed huddle. "That dagger is the source of his power, and the only known way to control the Darkness."

Killian merely nodded in understanding of her words, not speaking but clearly more than a bit transfixed by the reality of what he held in his hand. Emma, however, found somehow that Belle's reminder had snapped her from the object's hypnotic hold and galvanized her for action. "Good," she replied simply. "That's exactly what we need."

Turning to her lupine friend and sometimes baby-sitter (to Henry's always enthusiastic delight) she asked, "Ru, can you keep an eye on Henry for me? I want to make sure he's safe, however this goes down."

Ruby and Henry were both clearly about to protest being left behind and wanting to help, even as she could see Graham already shaking his head and Belle readying sage caution at tackling the Dark One head on, but something in the earnest plea in her eyes or the determined set of her stance, must have convinced Ruby and Henry at least that she wouldn't be swayed.

"You've got my word," Ruby promised solemnly instead, holding Emma's gaze before grabbing her in a quick, tight hug. "With my very life."

Henry merely clutched her around the middle, holding on tightly, which she savored, holding his lanky frame with just as much force, until she had to pull back, breaking the tension with an awkward chuckle and what she hoped was a reassuring half-smile. "Hey, we're gonna be back before you know it, and we'll all be the safer for it."

Henry nodded dutifully; despite the risk he was smart enough to understand, she could see his true believer's heart struggling to the forefront to have faith in her words regardless of the danger.

"Emma, are you sure this is wise?" Graham asked, clearly hoping to get her to reconsider, or at least take more people with her, but her mind was already made up.

"I'm sure it's crazy," she answered honestly, shaking her head and holding up a hand against further protests, "but Killian and I are going anyway." Her eyes went to him, realizing they hadn't actually discussed this beforehand, but he merely answered by placing the dagger in her open palm and nodding his complete agreement firmly. "Getting to him before he's completely prepared for us might be the only chance we have. We're going, and we're going alone."

She turned on her heel sharply and was off before anyone could argue further, moving from the clearing and back toward town at just short of a jog.

For several seconds all she could hear were her own feet striding through the underbrush and her heart pounding wildly in her ears, but soon, she felt Killian's warmth beside her as he caught her up and then matched her pace. He stayed at her side, a steady, comforting presence even though she could feel the tension coiled within his lean muscular frame as much as she did in her own, until they reached the treeline - the sheriff's station, the clock tower, and their destination, the pawn shop, in sight.

Just before she charged forward again, Killian caught her elbow, his depthless gaze searching hers for a moment before he cautioned, "Take a breath, Love. No, we don't want to squander our chance at catching the old demon unawares, but it isn't wise to storm in with our heads in turmoil. Slow down, draw a breath. Think - we must have a plan, just as he always does."

She sighed, knowing he was right, and that she was asking him to walk into what was at best a meticulous balancing act with severe consequences, and at worst, a deadly trap. "Of course," she relented slightly, "and I _do_ have a plan. But," she sighed, running a hand through her hair, "there's no guarantee it'll work. You don't need to go in there with me."

Killian shook his head impatiently, clenching his jaw in a powerful way that made all of Emma's synapses fire. "I'd never leave you to do this alone, Swan, surely you know that."

She nodded when his eyes sought hers desperately, clearly not able to stand her thinking he'd abandon her to face their nemesis without him.

"Just keep an eye on him. There's no telling what he might throw at you," he murmured, pulling her close to press a kiss to her forehead and inhale her scent. "Be wary." Both of them needed one more embrace, just in the instance that this all went south.

Upon pulling back, each visibly squared their shoulders in preparation, and Killian vowed solidly, "I'm right beside you, Emma."

She nodded, stepping from the trees toward their target. "Thank you," she spoke up, truly touched and expressing it for a moment with a beautific smile that warmed him to his core before she hardened her armor once again. "Now, let's go put a stop to this… once and for all."

In the end, it seemed almost too easy. Emma strode into Gold's shop first, the little bell above the door announcing their arrival, with Killian right behind her. She almost expected Gold to materialize suddenly right before them - angry and ready to strike them down. So instead, when he stepped in from the back room in his genteel suit and wearing the smooth, appeasing smile of a businessman, it nearly put Emma back on her heels in surprise. Killian's cautions in her ears didn't allow her guard to drop far though.

"Why, Miss Swan, what might I do for you?" The pawnbroker face Gold wore when it suited him smirked with false politeness as he moved forward to stand facing her across the glass display counter. The man didn't even spare Killian a look; completely ignoring the quietly seething werewolf standing just over her right shoulder, as if he were invisible or didn't bear acknowledgement.

Whether her partner bore the slight well or not, it made Emma's blood boil, reminding her all over again just why Gold had to be stopped - he had all too much power and felt himself completely invincible. If he didn't, he would at least attempt to look contrite over all that had happened, or that he had done directly, in the last few days. Her emotions had already been running high, but seeing him standing there so calm - unruffled and unconcerned - despite all the pain and fear around him, caused the deputy to answer more sharply than she had intended, so tartly accusing in fact, that she felt Killian trailing the curve of his hook over her shoulder blade and down her back soothingly, as if afraid she might forget all resolve and attack the Dark One foolishly. "You could apologize to Killian, help us put this town back together, and swear not to attack us again," she spat, eyes narrowed with a blazing focus that she hoped scorched him with its ire.

Gold tilted his head at her display as if she were a curious oddity rather than an equal to be taken seriously, his maddening grin setting her teeth on edge and making her want to wrap hands around his neck. Still she pressed on, undaunted by his lack of concern at her anger. "But since I know we won't get any of those things from you, and that we'd be fools to trust it even if we did, I'd settle for you just listening to what _we_ have to say, and then striking a deal."

The ripple of shimmering scales which passed across the villain's face sent a shiver down Emma's spine, flickering into her vision for a moment and then vanishing behind his unassuming facade once more. The titter of barely contained chaotic mirth which escaped the Dark One's curving mouth as it parted into a slow, sinister smile completed the eerie effect as he cocked his head, asking tauntingly. "And just what makes you think, _Savior_ , that you have anything worth my making a deal with you? Or even worth my time you're wasting?"

Emma's look was one of grim triumph, for once knowing that they had the upper hand and Rumplestiltskin wasn't three steps ahead. She produced the dagger and brandished it before him, watching the conniving imp's eyes go wide and uncertain in fearful realization.

"Pretty sure this will hold your attention, Crocodile," Killian grit out the answer this time, through clenched teeth.

When the Dark One turned pawnbroker didn't respond, Emma arched a brow, driving the point home. "Now are you willing to see what sort of deal we have in mind?"

The strain it took for the Dark One to maintain a measured voice that poorly attempted to seem calm showed through the cracks in Gold's veneer; a tightness around his eyes, the anxious way his fist tightened on the counter before him, and the way his voice still came out a bit fervently desperate however he tried to appear, gave him away. "Yes," he finally hissed on a tense breath of air. "You know I will… Clearly, _someone_ ," his eyes darted to Killian's in angry accusation (though it hadn't been his enemy who explained the dagger's power at all), "has made you aware of that blade's importance. You know I barely have a choice. For all the high minded ideals you heroes spout, here you stand, aiming to control me - or kill me at last - just as any villain would have done."

Eyes narrowed, Emma practically growled her reply, her shoulders stiffening thinking how often the man before them had orchestrated events to his best advantage or manipulated them all as he saw fit, and yet was trying to pretend he was the victim and make them feel guilty for grasping their one chance at halting his machinations. She felt Killian go equally as rigid with affront and simmering anger at her back, beside the tensed alert he'd already held just attempting to have her back against an infinitely powerful sorcerer who would do anything to have his way.

"Don't even try that on me," she warned, voice steady despite the bitterness and anxious energy she felt. This snivelling fraud had been the root cause of so much that had brought them all here, had even first led Regina down the path to darkening her heart and given her the curse that had brought Storybrooke into being at all. The self-proclaimed Evil Queen had made her own poor choices, certainly, but the coward before them still had a hand in, and therefore a portion of the blame, for the pain her son was in at Regina's loss, having been the one who began teaching her dark magic, shown her the power that fed on her broken heart and simmering rage, and convinced her it was the way to take control of her life again. Gritting her teeth, Emma held the dagger up horizontally before her as she took a slow, purposeful step closer. "You're going to listen to me this time, and then - for once - you're gonna make a deal that's best for _everyone,_ not just yourself."

The restrained power crackling behind Gold's eyes might have made Emma flinch back - if she hadn't already been so angry herself, and so determined that his rule had to end, right then while they had the one means to stop him in their hands. Gold clearly didn't want to answer her, to listen to her terms, much less agree to them, but the dagger was doing its work, constraining him to remain still and hear them out, as he stared back, eyes glittered maliciously as his only recourse to how he must have ached to strike them down where they stood. "Very well, Miss Swan," he finally hissed, words hateful and weighted, but forcedly polite all the same. "Let's have your terms then."

Emma never let her stare waver, warning this beastly man before them that she was on her guard, wouldn't let him take her by surprise, wouldn't let him hurt anyone else she loved. Drawing in a deep steadying breath, she spoke firmly without a hint of the waver which tried mightily to creep into her voice at the sheer import of what she was doing, pronounced exactly what she had worked out was necessary after Kilian warned her to slow down and think through every angle.

"We'll keep the dagger," Emma began, "somewhere unknown to you, but safe - not to use it repeatedly in ordering you around or for personal gain - which is what a _real_ villain would do, as you well know, but to insure that you can't go back on your word. We will promise to otherwise leave you alone to go about your business, unpunished any further for teaming with Regina and Cora, blackmailing an officer of the law, and whatever else you might have had planned, _if_ ," and here she paused, making sure the crux of her deal hit home with impact, "... _if_ you promise not to plot against or harm any of the members of my family, my friends and loved ones, or the residents of this town ever again. One you've sworn to that deal, and only then, will we otherwise leave this dagger alone in safekeeping and we'll stay out of each other's way. But I'm commanding you now, as you make the promise, not to break it, or you'll pay the price."

Gold glared back, his whole face sharp, intently focused, and quite obviously hoping to intimidate her into backing down. But Emma was doing no such thing; it was too important. Her eyes flicked to Killian momentarily, hoping she hadn't forgotten anything, but his quiet nod of pride steeled her to wait the Dark One out and stand her ground. Gold made a show of pondering her offer, but she had purposefully left him no leverage, and it was only a matter of time. Despite how sickly her gut quivered on the inside, knowing the Dark One would strike her down on the spot if he could, that if she didn't hold the cruelly curved blade of metal in her hand she would already be dust, Emma held firm and stared right back into Rumplestiltskin's cold, reptilian eyes.

At last, he dropped the semblance of debate, giving her a sleekly forced smile that didn't touch his eyes. Gold offered his hand to shake hers in agreement. "Very well, Miss Swan," he intoned silkily. "You haven't left me much choice in the matter after all."

"Certainly not," she shot back coolly. "Not when I know how much you love a good loophole." Beneath the surface, Emma was simply trying not to blink in stunned surprise. Could they really have managed to best the Dark One? She offered her hand as well, grasping his firmly as they shook to seal their deal. Before he could retract his arm however, Emma pulled him closer, a threat of her own in a low, serious vow right to his face. "Just remember this. You may be the Dark One - all powerful, immortal. But I _am_ the Savior. And I _will_ protect my family and my people. Don't test me."

Gold gave her an oily, obsequious smirk as he stood upright again, brushing imaginary lint from his suit fussily, as if her righteous anger had somehow soiled him. "Why, I wouldn't dream of it," he simpered, all false sincerity. The curve of his crocodile smile warned her of his duplicity and a shiver ran down her spine. He was only safe for the moment; he just didn't have a way to double cross them _yet_ … and they both knew it.

Still, she would take the victory for the moment, glad that in the meantime her loved ones were safe from his retribution. If the need to fight him again arose in the future, she would be ready. With a curt nod of her head, she finished bluntly. "Good," and turned to leave the shop. She wasn't naive enough to trust him, but she would accept the peaceable stalemate they'd reach for the small triumph it was.

It wasn't until she was out on the sidewalk and nearly two blocks down the street, where she could be sure not to be seen or overheard, that Emma deflated. Turning to find Kilian right on her heels, she melted into his open embrace, the adrenaline and bravado that had kept her together while facing Gold fled, causing her to nearly collapse, drained, as his arms came up and wrapped around her tightly.

For several long seconds, she merely breathed in his scent from where her face was buried against his warm, solid chest, drawing solace from the enticing spicy musk of salt, the wood of his ship and perhaps a fair hint of rum, grateful he was there for her to lean on. She was still shaking, even as she knew they had to get going. They needed to report to the rest of their group, let them know they were safe and their gambit had paid off, check on Henry and, of course, seal and lock away the dagger in its agreed-upon location.

Pulling in the first full, steady breath she had gotten since entering Gold's establishment, Emma raised her eyes to meet Killian's, flushed and a bit sheepish as she peered at him through her lashes. "Thanks," she offered sincerely, letting her hand brush over his chest for a moment longingly. "I'm okay now, I promise."

Killian shook his head slowly, his blue eyes lit up with amusement and so much awed adoration that Emma found it hard to believe it could all be for her. Cupping her cheek delicately even in such large, rough-calloused hands, Killian answered, "Okay? Lass, you were more than just okay! Bloody brilliant you were! You beat the old crocodile at his own game, protected your boy. It was amazing, Love!" Grinning broadly, he picked her up and spun her around wildly in his arms, right there on the street in front of the sheriff station.

A bit stunned and giddy herself, Emma felt the jangling nerves release in giggling laughter at his antics and simply held on, revelling in his joy and their victorious moment. They had found a way, and for now she was going to focus on that.

Unbeknownst to them however, Rumplestiltskin remained at the counter of his shop, unmoving and grinding his teeth in impotent frustration. Even if they had taken much of the leverage he could have used in future, the scheming pawnbroker, and the powerful sorcerer beneath, was not as fully contained and defeated as the heroes might have hoped. Biding his time patiently until he could be certain that the Savior and her mangy pirate were neither returning nor lingering to watch his movements, with a flick of the wrist, Gold locked the pawnshop door tightly and shuttered the windows, obscuring any view in before he reached beneath the counter.

Pulling out a heavy tome on magic and various tools and vessels for its use, the Dark One opened the ornately decorated leather cover on the glass surface. Mouth a thin, hardened line, he deftly flipped through the ancient, brittle pages, knowing exactly the item he sought. His already existing hunt for it had now been moved up to his most pressing goal.

Locating the page at last, his bony hand stilled, fingers hovering over the drawing which delineated a rather unique cylindrical container - the key to his only loophole. "The Sorcerer's Hat," Rumplestiltskin murmured to himself in a sinister purr, practically stroking the illustration upon page with fond affection, a troubling gleam in his eyes. "They might have me now," he muttered, "but that only lasts while I am tied to the dagger. That will not always be the case…"


	15. epilogue: moments in the moonlight

_epilogue ~ moments in the moonlight_

A few days after Emma and Killian's successful deal with the Dark One, a hesitant sort of waiting peace had fallen over Storybrooke as life seemed to return to its version of normal. Gold had made no noticeable moves to break his word, and though none of those who had fought for a sense of safety against he, Cora, and Regina were going to quit watching him closely, the intensely charged atmosphere of the previous weeks and the sense of constantly awaiting the next calamity or attack, had begun to subside. Henry and Snow, both as student and teacher, had returned to their regular school routine. Emma and Graham had gone back to regular shifts at the station handling once-more mundane complaints of dwarf squabbles, Mr. and Mrs. Sprat's domestic disturbances in the grocery aisles, and Widow Shue's numerous kids making too much noise in the backyard and bothering the neighbors. Killian seemed to be settling into town as well, planning to make it a more long-term home. When not with Emma and Henry, or out and about with David and Graham, both of whom were becoming the closest friends he'd had since the loss of his brother, the pirate puttered around on his ship, either cleaning or seeing that it was airtight and warm enough to remain habitable in the fast-approaching winter months.

Tucked away in her cozy office in the very back corner of the library however, one evening just a few days before Thanksgiving, Belle French fought to keep recent events and the distressing tangle of emotion knotting her gut from overrunning her mind. It was easier, admittedly, now that she wasn't alone. Graham had stopped in after he was done at the sheriff's station for the day, Granny's takeout in hand for their dinner, and they had just finished eating in warm companionship, both of them more than anything grateful to no longer be eating alone, to have the other's presence beside them to dispel the regrets and doubts whispering in their minds.

When at last she looked up to gaze full in his focused, understanding face, already looking back at her and seeming to read behind her attempt at a casual smile and false normalcy, Belle found herself catching her breath at the zing of warmth and electricity that went skittering through her. Tossing the napkin she had already crumpled into the paper bag on the table between them, she reached for the sheriff's large, calloused hand, already held out open and waiting for her on the wooden tabletop. She couldn't have imagined before this just how much comfort there was in simply being known - truly known, accepted, and understood intrinsically by someone else. She had come to feel nearly invisible with Rumple quite quickly upon regaining her sense of self (and more memories of the Enchanted Forest). There had been good moment long ago, but in truth she had been more of a shadow of the brave adventuress she'd always hoped. Yes, Rumple had needed her, but as an extension of himself, to keep him behaving as the good person he should have already been. Graham needed her too, but in the way any person would need someone they cared for; moreover, it was the same way that she needed him as well.

There was no judgement or impatience on Graham's face, only concern and a desire to help as his thumb rubbed soothingly over the back of her hand. "What is it, Belle?" he asked, voice low and calming in the dim light of her single desk lamp in the silent echoes of the library closed for the day. "Something is clearly bothering you… Maybe it would help to share it?"

Belle squeezed the hand that held her own reassuringly, before wrapping her free hand around their interwoven fingers, wanting to hold onto him that much more for his compassion and his intuition, traits she knew had made her initial gratitude and attraction to him swell into all that she felt for him now. It wasn't that she couldn't share her worry with him, she thought as she shook her head in agitation, it was that she didn't quite know how to try. Finally, she bit her lip and then, with a released _whoosh_ of breath, she plowed ahead impulsively, "It's just that...well...I don't really feel relieved. You know? I mean, I assumed that if we were able to stop Rumple - and Emma and Killian forcing his hand into that deal seems to have worked, at least for the time being - then I would feel more at ease, like I could safely move on. But I don't feel any better about it… more sort of hollow...and anxious too, like I'm waiting for the other shoe to drop."

Graham scooted his chair closer, obviously trying to offer a shoulder if she needed it; despite her having noticed that in most situations he didn't tend to get overly close in proximity to other people unless absolutely necessary. "If you're worried that we've dropped our guard, we haven't. Everyone knows Gold is quite possibly only safe until he finds a way out of the deal he struck-"

But she interrupted him, shaking her head and turning away from his searching, deep eyes that she felt could look right into and read her very soul if she let him. "No, it's not that. Well, there _is_ the worry that he'll find a loophole and attack us the first chance he gets, but it's more that I can't believe I was ever foolish enough to think he would change, that he could be different. So much wasted time, so much of my own life lost for a cause that was always hopeless."

Graham's fingers were tender, barely brushing over her skin as he ever-so-softly touched her chin to move her face back to his. "Please don't say that," he husked, his voice raspy with strangled emotion as he continued. "Your faith in others, your hope, your belief that we can overcome and change, that we _do_ control our own fates… I… I love that about you."

Her breath caught at his admission, long lashes blinking rapidly as she met his eyes now, transfixed and unable to look away.

"Don't let him take that from you," Graham finished breathlessly, his chest heaving as if he had just run for miles, and a surprising red flush climbing up his neck before his eyes dropped to the wood of the desk between them and then finishing with a murmured, "I couldn't bear it."

It took Belle a minute to get her wits about her, her thoughts pinging and racing in every direction at once and her heart beating as though it might pump right out of her chest, but she felt the sheriff beside her tensed to move, as if embarrassed to have said too much and preparing himself to withdraw. Quickly, she gripped his hand a little tighter, until he looked back into her face.

"You...you love me?" she whispered, not at all certain she could believe her ears.

Graham wordlessly nodded at that without saying anything more aloud. She could read his expression just then, as much as she had ever felt that he could read hers. She had been beating herself up for her own mistakes, both in the past and the present, fearing that her failures would always be laid out before her, but she could see in that weighted moment that her werewolf boyfriend carried all the same self-doubt and fear. He wasn't sure that what had happened to him, what he had been made into and forced to do, would ever be fully behind him, or if anyone could look at him without seeing the damage, and yet despite it all, he was reaching out to her.

Belle didn't know if it was right or if it was wrong, too much or too fast, but in that moment, with the flood of emotion he'd brought forth in her, she couldn't hold back. Leaning forward over their joined hands, she pressed her mouth to his, savoring the soft feel of his lips in a first kiss full of the hope he had just reignited within her, and everything else she felt for him besides.

When Graham opened for her, drinking her in with a low hum of pleasure and kissing back, it was so enthusiastic that before she knew it, he was pulling her toward him over the table until she was curled, giggling in his lap, sheltered by his warm embrace as he peppered more kisses to her hair, cheeks, and forehead. They might both still be broken, but together they were going to mend the jagged edges.

High on the hill overlooking Storybrooke, later that same night, Emma and Killian sat on the hood of her VW Bug, alternately stargazing and making out like the two carefree teenagers neither of them had ever really gotten the chance to be. Emma was just pondering the fact, when the idea of her deputy father on duty tonight catching them up here, flashing lights and stern expression and all the trappings he would have certainly pulled out if he'd actually been able to parent her when she was sixteen, seventeen, lost and living on the wild side. A chuckle escaped her at the both preposterous and yet utterly plausible mental image, causing Killian to pull back with an affronted look as she buried her head in his shoulder, her own shaking with silent mirth.

"And just what is so funny?" he questioned. "A man could begin to doubt himself when his lady love begins to laugh instead of melt at his romantic overtures."

"Easy there, Wolf Man," she soothed, trailing her hand along his open collar and into the exposed hair of his chest with idly stroking fingers, both their heart rates picking up at the gesture. "No need to get your hackles up. You're doing just fine, trust me."

A teasing grin quirked her delectable lips as she stared up at him, offering a seductive wink for good measure, even as she decided for herself that though she would definitely tell him later what had made her laugh and let him gain a chuckle from it as well, it wasn't the time just then, nor did she want the heavy chemistry rippling between them broken with humor.

Killian, for his part, saw her green eyes darken from sparkling jade to forest deepness with want and was more than happy to let the matter drop for the present. All sensible thought fled him at that moment anyway, as Emma's hand crawled up his neck to scratch behind his ear, making it all he could do not to whine in the back of his throat like a mere pup begging a treat from its owner. Emma _did_ own him, body and soul, in all the ways that mattered. Killian saw no purpose or sense in denying it.

However, once he managed to gather a few threads of coherent thought, he leaned forward to growl warningly against her skin, not quite willing to let her win the upper hand so easily. "You're playing with fire, Emma...as you well know. Toying with me that way wakes the beast within…"

She shivered at the husky intonation of his words, his meaning all too clear. In truth, she couldn't help thinking that might be just what she was after; she was only too eager to let him devour her with tooth, tongue, and claw. Still, there had been a reason they'd chosen this particular spot for the evening, and the time was fast approaching. The full moon above was nearly at its peak.

Seeming to recall himself just as Emma did, Killian pulled back from her slightly, his forehead resting against hers as they both tried to catch their breath. Finally, with a quick kiss to the tip of her nose, he slid off the hood of the car and stood, looking back at her with hope and uncertainty warring in his eyes. "Swan, in all seriousness, are you sure about wanting to wait for me? It could get quite chilly up here tonight.

Emma could only nod her head at him at first, wondering how he still didn't quite see his own worth in her eyes, how intensely she wanted to be with him every moment she could. "Yes, Jones, I'm sure," she said at last, with some exasperation, not failing to notice the affection and joy that flooded his face with her confirmation. "It's only a few hours, right? Go - have your run. Maybe it's the loosed beast I'm anxious to see when you get back."

Killian visibly swallowed hard at her last words, but then a devilish gleam entered those mesmerizing eyes of his, and she could see his tongue poke into the corner of his mouth as he replied with a promise that set the blood in her veins on fire. "Have it your way, Love. I can say with some certainty that he'll be salivating to see you too by the time I return."

With that, he divested himself of his shirt, pulling it up over his head and baring his scarred and heavily furred chest as well as the ripple of stomach muscles that accompanied the action. Emma's mouth went dry at the sight, even as she reached out her hand dumbly to take the shirt from him, along with the pants, socks, and boxers that followed. Looking up at her once more with a smirk, knowing that she was staring at his nude form as she clutched the discarded clothing to her chest, Killian then jogged into the treeline and was gone.

A few minutes later, Emma heard the singular, haunting and powerful howl of a wolf from well within the forest and knew that his transformation was complete. It had taken Killian a huge amount of trust to bring her here and let her into as much of the process as he dared, still not completely willing to shift into lupine form right in front of her; knowing that for a brief amount of time, just when the change was complete, he was purely a wild animal. Though he could swiftly regain control of his mind, he refused to risk even the slightest chance that he might hurt or frighten her in that minute lapse of time.

He had told her that he could actually hold the transformation off completely, but she sensed within his statement that it wasn't a pleasant option, and when pressed, Killian had admitted that it was distressing - like an itch under the skin that couldn't be scratched - if not downright painful, when one continued to fight nature. He didn't know if it could do permanent damage, but Emma hadn't wanted him to test the theory anyway. Yes, Henry was with her father tonight - out on a camping trip with him, Graham, his friend Nicholas, and Nick's father, but she could wait a few hours. Plus, if she were honest, she was more than a bit curious, and not in the least turned off. So there she was, waiting for her love's return.

It really was almost more than a cynic like her could believe, all that had happened in the last few months. At Thanksgiving this year, she had more to be grateful for than she could have fathomed possible not so long ago. She had the son she had lost - that she'd broken her own heart to give up for his best chance - back in her life, she had parents who loved her and had always wanted her, she had found love with a man she knew was devoted and true, she had genuine friends in Graham, Ruby, Belle, and many more of the quirky inhabitants of their little hamlet, and she had a job she enjoyed, that she was respected for doing well. Most of all, the lost girl who had still been hiding beneath her armour, had finally found her home.

Musing on all of that, Emma also had to concede that of course life still wasn't perfect. There might yet be dark magic and curses that could come their way, along with everyday human heartache and trial, and of course she wasn't going to turn her back on Mr. Gold, deal or not, but things were as near perfection as she had ever known. She felt stronger in belonging to a place and to these people than she had ever been before all alone.

A rustling of dried leaves and underbrush alerted her to turn back to the forest just in time to see a familiar dark black wolf emerge from the trees, its startling blue eyes intense and knowing, even in the face of a different being. The majestic animal lifted its snout slightly, as if catching her scent on the wind and savoring it before gazing back at her and taking another step forward. Speechless, Emma could have sworn the animal licked its chops before pacing toward her. Then, as suddenly as he had appeared, he seemed to stretch and rearrange before her very eyes. She blinked disbelievingly, even though she had known it was him and what he was capable of, and when she looked again, it was Killian stalking toward her purposefully, nearly knocking her off her feet as he reached her and swept her up in a breathless, hungry kiss.

As she sank to the forest floor, Killian's weight comforting where he hovered over her, ravishing her mouth and divesting her of top and jeans until her skin was as bare and glowing pale in the moonlight as his, Emma felt herself panting for breath and grasping the dark hair at the nape of his neck. She couldn't help one last thought - her last coherent one for some time to come - that in the moment all their troubles seemed as far away from them as the full moon high above.


End file.
